


Strangers In The Night

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-16
Updated: 2005-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Deals with the aftermath of a night Brian spent with a stranger. Nothing went as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

//…// means flashbacks

* * *

He felt numb. The hot water was cascading down his body, but he hardly felt it. How was he supposed to feel, he wondered briefly? Was he supposed to feel anything at all?

Brian leaned his forehead against the wet tiles of the shower stall, his eyes closed, his hands balling into helpless fists. It was hot in there, hot and steamy. He loved hot and steamy. But not tonight. Tonight it meant nothing, tonight it didn’t matter at all. 

He could still smell it. Could still feel it. 

//God, this feels good.//

He squeezed his eyes tightly, tried to concentrate on the water beating on his back, the noise it made splashing on the ground.

//Man, you’re tight. I suppose you don’t do this often.//

His body shuddered. His knuckles turned white, the nails biting in the soft flesh of his palm. 

//You love it, man. Don’t tell me you don’t love it.//

His heart was thundering in his ears, drowning out any other noise around him.

//Don’t look at me like that. You enjoyed every moment of it, you asshole.//

Brian heard a roaring noise and his eyes shot open. He was still in his shower, the hot water still streaming down his body, and he realized in surprise that the roar had been his own voice. A scream. And there was pain. He lifted his hand and with strangely detached amazement saw blood running over his fingers, the water washing it away instantly, the droplets changing the clear water on the ground into the softest pink. 

He blinked, trying to process what his eyes had taken in only a moment ago. 

He was bleeding. His hand was bleeding. But why?

Brian couldn’t remember. He tried to make sense of all this, but there was none. No sense at all. Slowly reaching out he turned off the water, and opened the shower stall to reach for a towel, wincing when pain shot through his lower back. 

Shit. He was going to be sore for a few days. 

//I promise you, you’ll never forget me.//

Sudden dizziness seized him and Brian grabbed for the sink, waiting for the feeling to pass. Catching sight of his own face in the mirror, he stared at the image. He looked the same. The lips. The nose. Even the eyes. Nothing had changed. And everything had. 

“Brian?”

The eyes in the mirror widened with sudden terror. Justin. Justin was home. Fuck. 

“Brian, are you in there?”

He swallowed. Hard. And blinked. “Go to bed, Justin. You’ve got a class at eight.”

“Fuck you,” Justin snarled back. “You’re not my mother.”

“Thank God for small favors,” he replied, glad his voice sounded normal. “Where have you been?” Yes, keep the kid talking. As long as he’s talking, he’s not going to ask. Not that he had answers for him anyway.

“It’s not even two. It’s none of your business where I’ve been. I didn’t miss curfew.”

So the kid was still pissed. Good. “Well, I hope you had fun,” Brian managed to say, knowing that it was what Justin expected from him. 

Was this still his nose? Yes, it looked the same. Still the same. But if he was still the same, why didn’t he feel like it?

He shivered and reached for the robe hanging at the door. Pulling it on, he didn’t feel any warmer. Instead the shivering got worse. God, it was cold. Or was it? Brian could see the steam in the air, the mirror misting with it. Shouldn’t it be warm in here?

Again he felt dizzy and he leaned against the wall to steady himself. Fuck. Closing his eyes for another moment, he let his head fall against it, too. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that his hands were trembling as they fumbled to tie the robe. There were bruises on his thighs and … on other places of his body, that he didn’t want Justin to see. At least the asshole had stayed away from his face. 

Nausea rose in his gut and Brian forced it down. 

Don’t think about it. It’s nothing to dwell on. It’s over and done. Now, get up and on with your life.

The little voice was whispering in his head, and he tried to cling to it, tried to pull himself up, but there were other voices, a real cacophony, and they were screaming at him, making him want to curl into a little ball in the corner and never to get up again. 

Again nausea came and went. No, no, no. He couldn’t give into that. What would Justin think? And the others? What if anybody knew? He could already see them, their pitying looks. Poor Brian. But there would be others, too. Those who thought he’d only gotten what he deserved. Oh yeah, he could already see Ted cheering them on. No, he could never tell anyone. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. 

He’d fucked more men than he could remember, probably more than all his so called friends together, so it meant nothing. Just another fuck. Just another man. Yeah. Right.

Or not. 

He could still feel the hands, the breath, not foul or anything, but the smell was still present, the sweat, the movements. 

The cock.

In his ass. 

Fuck. 

This time Brian couldn’t stop the bile rising in his throat, and he dove for the toilet, hanging there gasping after his stomach had emptied its contents. Not that it was much. Just bile, and acid. It hurt his throat and left a foul taste in his mouth. But he didn’t mind. It fit. He felt like that. Foul. Sore. Dirty. 

Sinking to the ground he pulled his knees up. His gut hurt, his body hurt, and his soul wept. 

***

“Brian, you’ve been in there long enough, I think it’s time to …”

The voice trailed off as Justin stepped into the bathroom, and stopped at the sight before him. There was Brian, curled into a tiny ball beside the toilet, clutching his robe desperately to his body. 

“B-Brian?”

Tentatively he stepped closer, not sure what to do, not sure what it meant. Was Brian sick? Had he taken something his system couldn’t deal with? He wished Brian would tell him, but no answer was forthcoming.

Crouching down in front of his lover, he kept his voice soft, “Brian, what’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”

A movement that might pass for a headshake was all he could see, and instantly alarm bells went off in his head. Something was definitely wrong. 

Suddenly Brian gave a strangled gasp, and then whispered in a voice almost too low to hear, “I … I’m okay. Just go.” 

Go? Was the guy fucking crazy? “I can’t leave you like this,” Justin argued. “You need help.”

“I don’t need any fucking help,” Brian ground out sharply, and with visible effort managed to get himself into a sitting position. “And I certainly don’t need yours.”

Justin flinched, feeling as if his lover had hit him. Not his help, huh? Well, didn’t that say more than anything? Ethan on the other hand … shit, don’t think about it. Not right now. “Fuck you,” he ground out, but before he could rise and turn away, he felt Brian’s hand on his arm.

“Help me up?”

His eyes met Brian’s and he saw in them what the older man wouldn’t say. That he was sorry. Justin took a deep breath, and swallowed his hurt. Maybe Brian was really hurting. Maybe he was really sick. Sick people often behaved strangely, right? “Okay,” he said finally, holding out his hand for the other man. “Come on. Let’s get you into your bed. You look as if you could use a good night’s sleep.”

Brian swayed slightly when he was back on his feet, and Justin slang his arm around the older man’s hip to keep him from falling. He was instantly alarmed when the touch was answered with a hiss of pain. 

“Brian?”

“I’m fine,” came the reply through gritted teeth. 

Fine? Yeah. Sure. “Brian?” Justin asked as they made their way towards the bed. “Did something happen?”

The older man stiffened in his arms. “No,” he said, and the sound of his voice made it perfectly clear that no explanations were to be expected. 

Carefully Justin helped Brian to lower his body on the bed, and when the older man was sitting , he asked, “Anything I can do for you?”

“No,” Brian replied with a slight shake of his head, not looking at his young lover. “I’m fine.”

“O-okay,” Justin said, not sure what to do next. But maybe Brian needed a little moment for himself. “I need to piss,” he announced and went back into the bathroom. Truth to be told, he really needed to piss. But it was also a good excuse to leave Brian for a moment, and to collect his own thoughts. 

Shit. Something was definitely wrong. But what? What could have happened? Sure, it could be drugs, but Justin couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that this wasn’t about some wacky E. Brian was … different. Okay, so he was pushing him away, but the moment they had looked at each other, Brian still on the ground, there had been something … something the teenager couldn’t quite grasp. Something that made guilt roll over him for spending the last hours with Ethan Gold. 

Being with Ethan was good. It gave Justin the feeling to be something special, Ethan made him feel special. He wanted him, needed him even, made it clear that Justin was important to him. Not like Brian. Brian never needed him, never told him he was special. Brian always had this wall around him. For a long time Justin believed he’d be able to tear it down. He didn’t anymore. 

He wasn’t even sure when it had happened. Maybe it was Chris Hobbs or just the fact that Justin had experienced first hand that his lifespan was limited. That this moment could be his last. Or maybe he’d just grown up. He didn’t know, didn’t really care. Tonight, however, something has passed between him and Brian, almost like a call for help, for … understanding. Justin wasn’t even sure if he’d imagined it, maybe a part of him wanted it so much and … But no! It had been there. 

Justin finished his business, then washed his hands, determined to find out what this was all about, but when he came back into the bedroom, Brian was asleep, the covers drawn up under his chin. His breath was slow and regular, and his features were relaxed. 

Justin sighed. There would be no answers tonight. He crawled into the bed beside his lover, and only moments later he was asleep as well.

***

The hands were all over him. Groping. Squeezing. Holding him down.

“No,” he said, loud and clear, but it didn’t matter. A grin loomed over his head, twisted and cruel. 

“No? Didn’t you mean yes?”

A hand grabbed his balls, and squeezed. Not gentle, not the way a lover would, but brutally, and Brian screamed in pain and outrage.

“What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t funny. Release me, now,” he demanded. At first bondage had sounded like fun, but now it didn’t. Not anymore. 

Instead of releasing him, the hand tightened its pressure on his balls. “Say yes.”

“Fuck you,” Brian snarled. “Are you crazy?”

“Say yes!” the voice ordered, grabbing his cock brutally. “Say it!”

“Y-yes,” Brian stammered, the pain almost too much to stand. “Y-yes.”

Instantly the pressure vanished, and the hand touched him gently, almost lovingly. Brian felt sick, nausea rumbling through his stomach, making his insides hurt. 

“Good boy,” the voice crooned. “Now you see what a good boy you can be.”

Panic seized him. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t some kinky bondage play. The guy was mad. Completely insane. Justin’s words came back to him, the way the boy had looked at him in the alley near Babylon. And he also remember his laughter, the way he’d made fun of the real fear in Justin’s eyes. God, he was a fool. He was such a fool. 

“Come on.” He tried to keep his voice calm, “Why don’t you release me? And then we can play.”

“I don’t want to play. I’m in control here. And you’re going to do what I say.”

The fuck I am, he thought, desperately trying to find a way out. The guy was sweating already, his fully aroused dick poking into Brian’s thigh. He was clearly getting off on fear. And domination. What was his name again? Shit. Brian couldn’t remember it. It hadn’t mattered before. Now he wished he knew. Maybe using a name would help. 

“God, look at you. This almost looks like a virgin ass.”

Brian’s mind snapped back to the present, when he realized that the guy was lying between his spread legs, ankles securely anchored at the bed posts, and inspecting his tender regions. 

“You’re sick,” he spat. “Let me go now.”

Shit. His voice was wavering. Damn. 

“Are you afraid?” the voice taunted. “Is the little boy all afraid?”

“You sick bastard,” Brian snarled. “What? Are you going to rape me or what?”

A smile spread across the handsome face. “Yep,” the voice said matter-of-factly, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

***

His eyes shot open and after a moment he realized he’d woken up from hearing his own strangled scream. 

“Brian?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. “I’m okay,” he said quickly, glad that his back was to his young lover. He tried to control his ragged breathing, and tried unsuccessfully to swallow the taste of bile from his mouth. His spit tasted like bile. His throat felt like it was on fire. 

“Brian?” Tentative hands reached for him, gently touching his shoulder. “Brian, please.”

Shit.

He didn’t turn. “Go back to sleep, Justin. I’m okay.”

A deep sigh. “No you’re not. You woke up screaming and you’re sweating as if you’ve just run the Boston marathon.”

Fuck. He could never hide anything from the kid. But maybe he could distract him. The thought went on like a light bulb in his head. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Geez, Brian. Not everything can be resolved with fucking.”

“I always liked that part of therapy,” he replied, trying to sound flippant. He failed. His voice was still strangled, still hoarse and each word was painfully ripped from his throat. 

“God, Brian,” Justin groaned. “I wonder if you’ll ever grow up. Something’s wrong, and to answer your question, no, I don’t want you to fuck me.”

No? Very interesting. “Got it somewhere else last night?” Okay, not fair. But it was still better than running the risk of Justin to start with his questions again. Questions he didn’t want to hear. Answers he didn’t have.

Another deep sigh. “It’s not working, Brian. I’m not buying your shit. I know you too well.”

No kidding. The kid knew him far too well. Even though he’d felt that was changing lately. But tonight of all nights, it seemed as if Justin was tuned in to him again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What a surprise,” Justin replied, and Brian heard the rustle of sheets, then bare feet hitting the floor. “I’m gonna get myself something to drink. Want anything?”

“No.” 

Justin stood and walked, his naked beauty gleaming in the blue lights, towards the kitchen. He was so young, so clean. And he was going to Babylon every night. 

Oh shit! What if the guy hadn’t chosen him, but Justin?

Nausea rolling through him like a desert storm, Brian leaped from the bed and into the bathroom, dry heaving over the toilet as Justin walked in. 

“Brian, you’re sick, and …”

Again the voice trailed off. But this time it was followed by a shocked gasp. “B-brian?” Justin’s voice wavered. “Oh, God. What happened? Did someone beat you up?”

Justin was beside him on the ground, fingertips gingerly touching a bruise on his lower back. Brian turned slightly, trying to hide his genitals from the boy’s inquiring eyes. He could probably find an explanation for the bruise on the back, but what kind of excuse was there for blue balls?

“I had an argument, okay?” he gritted out, the words nothing but a croak. Shit. He was sore all over. 

“An argument?” He could hear the disbelief in Justin’s voice. “This looks like a lot more to me.”

Brian closed his eyes. “Leave it, Justin,” he pleaded, hating the way his voice was trembling. 

“No, I’m not gonna leave it,” the kid shot back. Oh, there had been times when Brian had been proud to hear that kind of voice from Justin. The kid was a fighter, he wouldn’t just give in or give up. But tonight was definitely not the time for this. Not where Brian was concerned anyway. 

Today all he wanted was to be left alone, to be able to hide. But no such luck. He should have known that Justin wouldn’t give him that. Justin didn’t hide, and he didn’t allow others to hide either. Yes, for a while, after the bashing, Justin had been different, almost withdrawn, but tonight, he seemed back full force. Like the time in front of his high school, holding up banners and shouting ‘Hey, Hey, ho, ho, homophobia’s got to go’. Oh yes, he’d seen him there, from the distance. He would never tell him, but he’d been there. And so proud. 

Not today, though. Not today. 

“Isn’t it time for you to go to school?” he asked, the clock telling him that it was half past seven. Why hadn’t he noticed before that it was light out already? Brian blinked. 

“Don’t try to distract me,” Justin grit out, clearly angry now. “It won’t work. So spill. Who beat you up?”

Beat him … Brian jumped for it like for a lifeline. “I don’t remember anything,” he said. 

“Brian, you’ve got a big purple bruise on just above your ass. And you are telling me you don’t remember how it got there? Come again!”

God, the boy was like a pit bull sometimes. 

A bruise above his ass.

//Yeah. You like that, don’t you.//

Brian clamped down on the once-again rising nausea. No, he was not going to be sick again. Not now. “He kicked me,” he mumbled, trying to forget the real reason, trying to ignore the throbbing in his ass when he thought about it. 

“He kicked you?” Disbelief colored Justin’s voice. “How? Did you lie on the ground or something?”

//You want me to fuck you on the bed, or do you like lying on the floor? Tell me, good boy, do you like it?//

His stomach cramped, his gut rolled. “Yeah,” he managed, keeping himself from drawing up his knees, from curling into a fetal position. 

“And you? You did nothing?” Now he could hear suspicion. Justin didn’t believe his story one bit. But there was no way he could tell him the truth. Justin would never look at him the same way. There would never be awe in the kid’s eyes. Never admiration. Only pity. It would kill him to see pity in Justin’s eyes. 

Poor Brian.

Poor Brian. But he got what he deserved. Yeah, he could already hear them talking, whispering behind his back. Look, there’s Brian Kinney, the slut. He had it coming. Yes, it would be like that. No doubt about it. 

But first he had to take care of Justin. “Can you make some coffee?”

One of the deep sighs Brian had gotten accustomed to reached his ears. “Coffee. Sure.” 

He heard Justin move away, and he let go of the toilet, finally feeling safe enough to turn around. His robe? Oh, yes, he’d thrown it on the ground just before slipping under the sheets. Justin was in the kitchen, so maybe it was okay to walk out and grab a pair of trousers. If he could stand wearing them, that is. 

With a groan he pushed himself off the floor and stumbled into his bedroom, then into the walk in closet to find a pair of sweats. Pulling them up gingerly, he bit his lower lip when they came in contact with his genitals. At least he didn’t have to be in his office today. Thank God for small favors. Just the thought of sitting in a chair, wearing a pair of suit pants made him groan inwardly. Fishing for a shirt, he pulled it over his head and then paused for a moment, closing his eyes. 

He should probably see a doctor, make sure that nothing was damaged beyond repair. On the other hand it was to expected that everything was black and blue after a treatment like that. 

“Brian? Coffee’s ready.”

Opening his eyes he turned and slowly made his way towards the kitchen. Justin stood behind the counter, upper body bare. “You want something to eat?”

Eat? His stomach did a somersault. “No, thanks.” 

“You look like shit,” Justin remarked, placing the cup in front of him.

Brian managed to give him a glare and the kid chuckled. Good. Maybe things were back on their way to normal. 

Justin, holding a cup of his own, propped his elbows on the counter and scrutinized him. “So, spill.”

Or maybe not quite back to normal. 

Brian sighed. “There is nothing to tell. I got in a fight. Big deal.” And then a thought struck him. “Last time it was your own father who beat me up.”

Justin flinched, then paled, before he put the cup on the counter and turned away, busying himself with preparing cereal for the both of them.

Shit. Well, done, Kinney. Now you really did it. “Justin-“

“No, it’s okay, really. He did beat you up.”

The boy’s back was very stiff when he poured the cornflakes, and Brian felt a throbbing start behind his temples. It would turn in to a full blown headache in a moment. He put his own cup down and rubbed the aching spots. “Why don’t you just give me the damn bowl,” he said finally.

After a moment, Justin turned and placed it in front of him, then handed him the milk. “You need to eat.”

“You definitely *don’t* sound like *my* mother,” Brian grumbled, thinking of Joan Kinney, the woman who had born him, the woman who was now ashamed of him. 

“Was it … was it the guy?”

//Look at you, pretty boy, look at you. All tight and hot. Haven’t had it up your ass for a while, huh?//

“Wh – what guy?” he asked, hoping that the kid would buy the dumb act.

Justin’s eyes narrowed. Nope. He hadn’t really expected the boy to buy it. “Don’t do this,” the blond said quietly, but firmly. “I’m not some stupid kid. Not anymore.”

“No, you aren’t,” Brian agreed, desperately trying to keep his coffee from coming back up again. 

//Brian Kinney, the great fuck of Babylon. They say you’re in a relationship now. I wonder what your pretty boy’ll say when he finds out someone else fucked you tonight.//

The guy.

He felt sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. Was it warm in the loft? Brian blinked. 

“Brian? Are you okay?”

Hands groping, pining him down. Pain. Ripping. Blinding. A huge cock shoved inside his hole, peppermint breath on his face. 

“Brian!”

Green eyes, dark with lust, the pupils dilated. And pain. The pain, once again. In and out, moving, sweating, stinking. 

The guy.

Brian turned without thinking, but the bathroom was too far away. On the stairs he sunk to the ground, coffee spilling out of his mouth, his stomach clenching in painful waves. 

“Brian!” 

He heard the alarm in Justin’s voice, felt the kid move in his direction, move closer. 

“Stay away,” he croaked, holding out a hand to keep him away. He couldn’t bear having him close right now. 

Up and down. Up and down. In and out. In and out. Sweat dripping on his face, the smell of lust and sex. 

He closed his eyes, his fists clenching.

“Oh God, Brian!”

Shit, his ankles. He’d forgotten all about his ankles. Hadn’t covered them properly. 

//You’re still trying to fight, pretty boy? You should stop, or the bindings will cut your flawless skin.//

Why had Justin not seen them before?

“Brian what happened to you?”

Go away. Go away. 

“No!” he cried hoarsely, and Justin stopped a few feet away. “Don’t come closer.”

“But-“

“You can’t help,” he hissed. “Just … just go to school. I’ll be alright in a few hours.” Yeah. Sure. You’ve always been good at lying to yourself. 

“Did … did the guy hurt you?”

The guy.

Again waves of nausea crashed in over him, and Brian drew his knees up. It hurt. Oh God, it hurt. 

//Feels like being ripped apart, huh?//

“Brian, please talk to me. I … I don’t know what to do.”

“Nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. “You can’t do a thing. Go.”

“No.”

Fuck. The kid was stubborn. But what else was new? 

“You need help.” Justin crouched down beside him, obviously having closed the gap between them without Brian noticing. “Let me help, please?”

Brian opened his eyes, finding Justin’s face not far away. The eyes so very blue, the skin almost translucent. So young, so beautiful. 

//Pretty Boy//

“Justin-“

“I’m not gonna go away. The classes can wait. Please, Brian, tell me what happened.”

Tell? He should tell? What was he supposed to tell, when he still didn’t know what he felt? How he was supposed to feel. “I just want to sleep,” he murmured finally, hoping against hope that Justin would give him a little space, a little time. 

“Sleep? Yes, sleep is good,” the kid said hastily, reaching out to help him up, but Brian stopped him. No touch. Not now. Not right now.

“I can get up on my own. Just … just let me sleep, okay.”

“Okay,” came the quiet reply. “But I’m staying. And – can I just – you know, wipe that away?”

He sighed, “If you have to.” But he raised his head and met Justin’s worried gaze. 

Slowly Justin reached out, a wet towel in his hand and wiped Brian’s face, then dabbed his shirt, worrying his lower lips the whole time. 

“Thanks,” Brian said. “For wanting to help.” It was more for the kid’s sake. He wasn’t grateful. He wasn’t anything. Would he ever be anything again?

“Hey, that’s what boyfriends are there for,” Justin tried to joke, but his voice shook. Damn. The kid was really worried. 

“I’ll be okay, I promise.” But he wouldn’t. How could he be okay? Ever again? 

“Then sleep. You need sleep.” Justin nodded, more to himself. “I’ll be there if you need me.” With that the boy turned away and walked back to the kitchen where soggy cornflakes were waiting for him. But Brian didn’t care. He couldn’t. He stood and walked into the bedroom, then slipped underneath the sheets and pulled them up. 

This was his home. His bed. He was safe here. At least he hoped he was.


	2. Strangers In The Night

“What do you mean we can’t see each other tonight?”

Justin suppressed a sigh, and his eyes darted to the bedroom where Brian was still lying beneath the covers, his hair the only part of him visible. He hadn’t moved ever since he’d gone into hiding, but Justin wasn’t sure if his lover was truly asleep. “Ethan-“

“I miss you,” his other lover complained, the voice soft and pleading. “I miss you every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”

This time Justin couldn’t suppress the sigh. The words went down like warm honey, soothing the hurts Brian had left over the months. Okay, so he was probably responsible, too. He had to admit he had changed, but, shit, was it really wrong to want commitment, love, and a relationship that meant something – for both parties involved?

“I miss you, too,” Justin admitted, letting his voice drop to an intimate purr. “I can still feel you.” He straightened, “But this is different. Something’s wrong with Brian.”

“Brian.” 

Justin heard the annoyance in Ethan’s voice and rubbed his aching forehead. Fuck. He wondered briefly what he might have done in a former life that this was happening to him. He was nineteen for fuck’s sake, he was supposed to be carefree, to enjoy life, not to deal with this shit. Or maybe he was just an idiot for not being able to find someone who met all his needs. Someone whom he could love and who loved him back. 

He frowned slightly and his gaze wandered back to Brian’s inert form, and wondered if he would ever love anyone the way he loved this man. Everyone said he was too young, that his whole life was before him, that he would meet a lot of people, fall in love, but Justin didn’t agree, couldn’t agree. Unfortunately love wasn’t always enough. Especially when it was one sided or if one party was so fucked up that love just wasn’t part of his personality. 

Fuck you, Mr. and Mrs. Kinney, and thanks so much for raising an emotional wreck. There was such beauty in Brian, such tenderness, and such aching vulnerability it took your breath away. Unfortunately Brian had learned early on to hide behind the fucking Chinese wall. There had been times when Justin was sure that one day he would tear it down, brick by brick if necessary. But not anymore. He felt tired, was so fucking tired of fighting, of waiting for a glimpse of affection. Life was too short, and Justin had learned that the hard way.

“Justin, are you still there?” 

Shit, he’d forgotten that Ethan was still on the phone. “Yeah, I’m here. Listen, I’m really sorry. But Brian needs me right now. I can’t just leave him for a few hours.”

“Hours, hours. I wish it was hours. All I’m worth is a few fucking minutes.”

The bitterness in Ethan’s voice cut right through him, and Justin felt guilt settle in his gut. Ethan was right, of course. Minutes, maybe an hour or two, that was all they had together. He could only guess what the other man was feeling. He wished he could do something, and deep inside he knew that sooner or later he had to make a decision, but right now was definitely not the time. Not when Brian was acting stranger than he’d ever seen him. Whatever had happened between them, whatever was going to happen in the future, he knew that Brian needed him right now, even though he acted as if he didn’t. Justin knew his lover well enough to know that with Brian words often meant nothing.

Not sure what to say to the waiting person on the other end of the phone line, Justin rubbed his forehead, searching for words that just wouldn’t come. “Ethan, I … I really need to go now. I’ll call you.”

“Sure,” Ethan replied, not hiding the fact that he didn’t believe him.

“I will, I promise,” Justin tried to assure him.

The other man sighed, “Okay. I just … I hate this power he seems to have over you, you know. And I don’t understand it. The way he treats you…” he trailed off and sighed again. 

Justin so didn’t want to talk about that right now, and quickly ended the call, promising Ethan once again that he was going to call him as soon as it was possible. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs and to the bed, stopping on Brian’s side to look down at the older man still hidden under the sheets. The blue lights were out, having been switched off automatically at six. 

“Brian?” he asked softly, “Are you asleep?”

The form under the covers didn’t stir and Justin turned away, feeling completely at loss what to do. Should he call a doctor? Or Michael? Maybe Brian’s best friend would find out what was going on? Michael wasn’t a bad guy, but was he the man to help in a situation like this? Granted, he must have seen a lot of bad things in Brian’s life over the years, if only half the stories about Brian’s father were true …

Justin shuddered at the thought, and walked back to the kitchen, not sure if cooking appealed to him right now. He sighed. Maybe Brian was right, maybe he should’ve gone to school after all. He didn’t want to leave Brian right now, but sitting here, not knowing what to do wasn’t very productive either. 

Why didn’t Brian need him? Why couldn’t he act like other guys, just open up a little and let Justin help? Because that’s how he is, a little voice in Justin’s head whispered. He doesn’t trust people. He’s so fucked up by what happened in his youth, he isn’t the sharing kind. Justin laughed quietly, bitterly. Brian Kinney sharing? That would be the miracle of Tremont Street. Brian opening up and telling him what was going on. Yeah, sure. When Hell freezes over. 

Justin rubbed his forehead, still at loss. Maybe he could call Debbie? No, Brian wouldn’t want that. But what could he do? Just sit around and wait? What if he called his mom? Determination settling on his face, he walked back to the phone, picked it up and called the familiar number. He had to talk to someone, or he’d go crazy. 

“Hello?”

Justin released a little breath of relief at hearing his mother’s voice. They had had their share of problems, but she’d proven more than once that she was on his side. And she was his mom after all. “Mom, hi.”

“Justin, honey.” There was a smile in her voice, but he could also hear the underlying concern. It was a mother’s thing she’d once explained when he’d complained about it. Mothers simply couldn’t help being concerned. Unfortunately fathers didn’t seem to have a problem with it. “Justin? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, mom.” He laughed slightly, “I just … I need someone to talk to.”

Concern instantly increasing, she asked, “Honey? Did something happen?”

“No … I mean, I’m fine, but something’s … something’s happened to Brian.” He hated that he sounded so desperate, but it was the way he felt. Brian wouldn’t talk to him, but Brian was quite obviously sick, or worse. He had to do something.

“Brian?” Her voice was cautious now, a little distant even. It was no secret that, although she’d finally realized that Brian was the only person who could reach Justin after the bashing, she still wasn’t comfortable with the older man in her son’s life. Unfortunately she was still the only person Justin could think about talking to. If that didn’t tell a lot about his fucked up life, he thought, suppressing a harsh chuckle. 

But this wasn’t about his problems. This was about Brian who still hadn’t moved. “Yeah,” he said finally, praying that his mother would not judge this time. “Something’s wrong with him.”

“Honey, Brian’s picture is next to the word wrong in the dictionary,” Jennifer replied, sighing after the words were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, but … “ She sighed again, “Something’s wrong is a little vague, Justin. What exactly happened?”

“He … he … he’s different. Distant.” Before she could interrupt, he added, “I know, he’s kind of aloof all the time, but this is … different. He’s sick. And he’s acting weird.”

“Weird?” Alarm was in her voice now. “Has he been taking drugs?”

Brian used drugs as a rule, but of course Justin couldn’t tell his mom that. Or that her sweet little baby son did the same, even though not quite so regularly. “Maybe. But it’s not drugs. Something’s wrong. He says he was beat up. But it still doesn’t explain…” he trailed off, not sure how much he could reveal to his mother, how much he should.

“He was in a fight?” Jennifer asked in a high-pitched sort of way. 

“Maybe,” he said, thinking about the bruises on Brian’s lower back. They’d looked ugly, and painful, and not like the kind of bruises you got from a fight. 

“Did he see a doctor?” his mother wanted to know.

“No. I … I don’t think so.” Unless Brian had been to an ER before he’d come home last night. But he couldn’t tell his mother that. There was no need for her to know that Brian had left him in front of Babylon with another guy, and that said guy had obviously hurt Brian. Justin could already see his mother’s reaction in front of his inner eye, and didn’t care for a live performance any time soon. 

“Then he should go,” Jennifer urged. “He could be hurt badly. What if … there is inner bleeding?”

Justin gasped. He hadn’t thought about that. Oh God, what if Brian was dying while sleeping in his bed. Justin felt panic rising. “You … you’re right. I should get him to see doctor soon.”

“Yes, you should,” she agreed, then sighed. “Honey, I don’t like you being responsible for a man like him all on your own.”

“Mom-“

She sighed again, “Yes, I know. Not right now. Do you need me to drive you?”

Justin knew she meant well, but he wasn’t sure if having his mother close to Brian would be the wisest move right now? “No, we’re fine. Brian’s car is here.” At least he hoped it was. No, he could remember having seen it last night. “Thanks for listening, Mom.”

“I’m always here for you, honey. Call, if you need any help.”

“I will,” he assured her, his eyes nervously darting to the man in the bed. “Bye.” He hung up before he could hear her reply, walked quickly to the bed and touched Brian’s arm.

“Brian.” When no reaction came, he shook harder. “Brian, wake up!”

He wasn’t prepared for the almost violent reaction he got. Instead of waking up slowly, blinking against the light, the way Brian usually did, this time the older man jerked away, almost jumping to the other side of the bed, clutching the sheets to his chest, while his free hand was held in front of his body as if to defend himself against whoever was attacking him.

Justin stared at him wide-eyed, “Brian?”

“Stay away from me,” the older man warned, his eyes darting wildly through the room. “Stay the fuck away!”

Taken aback, and also a little hurt, Justin took a step back, “Brian, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Brian blinked before his eyes slowly focused on his lover. The breath left his lungs with a woosh. “Justin?”

Bewildered by the strange behavior, the blond didn’t quite know what to say or do. It was pretty obvious that Brian didn’t want him close, so he simply stood without moving. “Yeah. Its me. Brian, what the fuck happened?”

Another breath left the older man’s mouth, and he seemed to calm down a bit, but the wild look wouldn’t leave his eyes. “Nothing,” he said defiantly, averting his gaze. “Why didn’t you go to school?”

Justin closed his eyes for a moment, and counted to ten, then he did it again before he looked at the other man. “Brian, something’s wrong with you. Do you really think I could just go to school as if nothing has happened? You have a bruise on your back the size of a platter. You need to see a doctor. What if there’s internal bleeding?”

“No, there isn’t,” Brian replied quickly, his eyes flickering to Justin for a moment then back to his hand that was now lying in his lap. Justin saw a shudder go through the older man’s body. 

Alarmed, he took a step closer to the bed, “Brian-“

“No!” It was like a cry torn from the soul, and Justin felt it down to his own. “I’m not going to see a fucking doctor!”

“Okay,” Justin said softly, tentatively sitting down on the bed. “No doctor then. Fine. But … can’t you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened. I told you, I got in a fight. End of story.” Brian’s voice was clipped, clearly not inviting any further discussion on the subject. 

But Justin wasn’t about to give up so soon. He was sick of being left out, of being good enough to be fucked or fuck, but never good enough to trust. He was Brian’s lover, for fuck’s sake. It was time Brian confided in him, and not Michael. “Don’t try to give me that bullshit,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “Was it the guy from Babylon?”

Brian’s face paled instantly, and his hand started to tremble, confirming Justin’s suspicions. For a moment he felt as if he should say ‘I told you so’, but knew it would be the wrong thing to do right now. Brian was clearly not in any condition for a serious discussion about his sexual habits. Not if Justin wanted to get on the bottom of what had happened to his lover. “So it was him, huh?”

Brian didn’t do anything, didn’t look up, didn’t confirm anything. He simply stared at his trembling hand, his forehead creased into a deep frown. “Who was that on the phone?” he asked suddenly.

Surprised that Brian had heard him, Justin replied truthfully, “I talked to Mom. I thought she might know what to do.”

“You told your Mom that I … was in a fight?” Brian’s head was up now, his eyes dark, almost bottomless, but his voice held a dangerous edge. 

Justin lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, “What was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Keep your nose out of things that are none of your business?” Brian suggested bitingly.

“You are my business,” the blond protested, not trying to hide the hurt in his voice. “You’re my lover. I’m living with you. I love you.”

“You do?” Brian’s right brow came up as if he was amused but there wasn’t amusement in his eyes now, and his voice turned to mocking as he continued. “I miss you too,” he spat, “I can still feel you. Now tell me, Justin, my lover, who is it you can still feel?”

Justin reeled back as if he’d received a blow, not able to stop the gasp coming from his mouth. Oh God, Brian had heard him on the phone. He hadn’t been asleep after all. He had listened to his conversation with Ethan. At least Justin’s end of it. 

“No ready explanations?” Brian mocked, his upper lip drawn into a tiny sneer. “Well, don’t let me keep you from whoever is so important to you.” 

Justin could only stare at the other man. Gone was the trembling, the wild look, the almost frantic clutching of the sheet. Instead he was glaring at the younger man now, the mocking in his eyes sending painful shocks through Justin’s body. “I … that …,” he stuttered. “He …is … Ethan.”

“Ethan, huh?” Brian leaned back on the bed, seemingly relaxed now. “So, is he what you want? Is he giving you flowers and pretty words?”

“Y-yes,” Justin stammered, feeling as if the ground was pulled from underneath his feet. “He … loves me.”

Brian clucked his tongue, then stuck it in his cheek. “Sweet,” he said, but his voice was anything but. 

“Brian, please, I want to … ex-explain.” Justin felt sweat forming between his shoulder-blades, and little droplets were running down his back into his, moistening the crack of his ass. 

The older man smirked at him, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Okay. Go on, explain!”

“He is … I met him at the concert,” Justin began, talking almost against his own will. “You … you know that one Mel and Linds took me to.”

Brian let out a short laugh, “Mel, huh? Does she know? I’m sure she and Linds are over the moon that you finally found someone who can appreciate you.”

“Nobody knows,” Justin defended himself, wiping his wet palms on his sweats. “I’m not even sure if there iss anything. I … I love you.”

The right brow came up again, “Is that some kind of joke? You made the rules, Justin. I stuck to them. God knows, I thought they were ridiculous. But I thought, okay, if that’s what he wants. No numbers you said. No second times. But hey, don’t worry. I lived without you before. It’s getting kind of crowded in here, anyway.” And then, without another glance at his young lover, he turned around and pulled the covers over his head, making it perfectly clear that the conversation was over. 

Well, maybe it was over for Brian. But Justin’s head was spinning. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to understand what just had happened. He had tried to talk to Brian and instead Brian had turned on him. 

Shit!

Calling Ethan from the loft had been a mistake. He’d known it was risky, but he’d been so sure that Brian was still asleep. But of course he wasn’t. Fuck! Now what? 

Justin rose from the bed, and walked back into the living room. Standing in front of the windows he looked down on the street. Cars were driving, people were walking. Everything looked so fucking normal, and up here the world was falling apart. Would Brian ever forgive him? He’d sounded so calm, so strange. But Justin knew that it was just part of Brian’s defense mechanism. Brian would never admit how much someone had hurt him. And Justin knew he had hurt him. 

A twisted part of him was glad. The fact that he could hurt Brian that way was almost soothing, but it also ripped him apart. There was enough shit going on already without Justin adding to the mix. He could still see Brian spilling coffee all over himself, could see him dry heaving over the toilet. Something was very wrong, and the last thing they needed right now was a revelation of Justin’s secret affair with Ethan. Now he would never get Brian to trust him. 

Justin rubbed a palm over his face, not really surprised when it came away wet. Sniffling a little, he started when suddenly the buzzer sounded through the loft. Sighing loudly Justin went to answer it. “Yeah?”

“It’s me, I need to see Brian.”

Shit! Michael. The last person Justin wanted around this very moment. With Brian in his current condition, there was no saying what was going to happen. Plus, he didn’t want anyone here right now, period. 

“Justin!”

“Oh, sorry. Michael, Brian is still asleep. He has the day off.” Please, please go away, he pleaded. 

“But I need to see him. It’s important,” Michael whined, and it was suddenly crystal clear to Justin that he wouldn’t go away. Shit!

“Okay,” he sighed, pressing the buzzer, “come on up.”

Justin turned the alarm off and opened the door, then turned towards the coffee maker. Damn. Damn. Damn. The last thing they needed was someone butting into their problem. Michael might be clueless most of the time, but he had a built in sensor for trouble between Justin and Brian, probably fed by his own jealousy. 

He and Michael had become pretty good friends over the whole Rage business, and Justin had to admit that ever since Ben had entered Michael’s life, Brian’s best friend kept out of their private affairs most of the time, but he also knew that, when in doubt, Michael’s loyalty would always be with Brian. And Justin could already picture Michael’s reaction to the whole problem with Ethan.

Shit!

“Hi, Justin. Why aren’t you in school?”

Justin looked up, and did an inward double take when he saw Michael’s red-rimmed eyes, and the sadness etched on the other man’s face. Maybe emotional traumas were contagious after all. “Brian had an accident last night,” Justin replied. When Michael’s brows shot up in alarm, he held up a hand, “He’s fine. Just … not really. He wants to stay in bed.”

“Did he see a doctor?” 

“He insists he doesn’t need one. You know him. If he –“

This time Michael held up a hand, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He sighed and slumped on one of the stools in front of the counter. “Jesus, what a mess. I really needed to talk to him.” He glanced at the closed doors leading to the bedroom, then turned back to Justin, giving him a grateful nod when the blond handed him a cup of coffee. “So, what happened?”

Justin shrugged, glad that Michael hadn’t instantly gone checking on Brian. If he was lucky, Brian hadn’t even heard them. But after the incident with the phone call with Ethan, Justin wouldn’t bet on it. So he could only hope that Brian wasn’t up to dealing with Michael right now. 

Justin looked back at Michael, who was still waiting expectantly. He shrugged again, “He went with this guy last night. I didn’t like it. Seems he and guy got into a fight. He has a big bruise on his back. You should see it, it’s the size of a platter.”

Again alarm shot into Michael’s eyes, “Where is it?”

“On his lower back. Looks nasty, but I suppose he’s going to be okay in a few days. It’s just a-“ bruise, he wanted to say, but Michael was already off and on his way into the bedroom. Quickly placing his cup on the counter, Justin followed in an attempt to stop the other man, but it was already too late. Michael had entered the bedroom and was talking to Brian.

“Brian? It’s me, Michael. Justin said you got into a fight last night.”

“Gway,” came the mumbled reply from underneath the covers.

“I can’t do that, Brian,” Michael insisted, “I want to see the bruise first.”

Brian’s head finally came up, and he squinted his eyes against the light, “Fuck off, Mikey.” He turned his gaze on Justin, “Did you call him?”

The blond held up his hands, “I had nothing to do with it.” 

“Brian, this is serious,” Michael said. “You need to see a doctor.”

“Fuck doctors,” Brian snapped. “And fuck you. Who asked you to butt in here? I could hear Justin telling you I was asleep.”

“Which you obviously weren’t anyway,” Michael replied mildly. 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Brian glared at his best friend. “I just need a day in bed. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Yeah, sure, Justin thought, watching the two of them. The way Brian had reacted almost violently before told a different story. He still wasn’t sure what really had happened, but he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that there was something Brian wasn’t telling him. He snorted inwardly. Whom was he kidding? Brian was the master of disguise. Of course he wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

“Why are you here anyway?” Brian asked.

Michael shook his head, “Not important. Now, turn over like a good little boy and let me see that bruise of yours. Justin said it was huge.”

“He never can keep his mouth shut,” Brian grumbled, but didn’t move an inch. “I’m not going to present you with my backside,” he said to Michael. And then added with a slight smirk, “You would faint at the sight anyway.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Nothing I haven’t see before. It’s either me or a doctor. So what do you prefer?”

“None of the above,” Brian quipped. “And now, fuck off. I need my rest.” And when Michael didn’t make a move to follow his order, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, did Justin tell you about Evan? He really should. I’m sure he can keep you entertained for a while.”

As Justin had expected it, Michael’s gaze shot to him. “Evan?”

The blond sighed. “His name is Ethan. And you damn well remembered it.”

But Brian was already back under the covers, leaving Justin to deal with Michael, who was now watching him through narrowed eyes. 

Justin closed his eyes. Thanks so fucking much! As if the day needed to get any worse.


	3. Strangers In The Night

Michael could still remember the day he met Brian Kinney. He’d been shoved into a toilet by a bunch of kids and was about to get his head dunked into the water when a voice behind them said ‘stop’. The voice wasn’t very loud, it wasn’t even threatening, but it had steel in it, and something else that made the kids back off, and saved Michael from complete humiliation. Catching his breath Michael had finally looked up and had his first glimpse of Brian. Tall, leggy, and so beautiful it took his breath away.

For weeks he couldn’t talk about anything but Brian. Debbie was already getting sick of hearing the name, when he finally brought the boy home. They had been inseparable ever since. They’d gotten drunk together, and Brian had told him about his first blowjob with the coach in the shower. Michael never got beaten up again and I nursed the wounds inflicted by his father more often than not, and most of the time not even visible. He had loved Brian from the first day on, and he had never stopped. He had finally accepted that it would never be what he’d so desperately wanted, but he was content now being the best friend, the man Brian relied on, trusted.

He thought about all this when he followed Justin down the steps back to the kitchen. A frown settled on his forehead when the blond finally turned and looked at him. “Who is Evan?”

“None of your business,” Justin snapped, eyes filled with annoyance flashing at the closed blinds of the bedroom. “He had no right to tell you.”

“He seems to think differently,” Michael said casually, the old mixture of anger and jealousy settling in his gut. Jealousy? Jesus! He thought he was over that shit by now. He sighed inwardly, accepting reality. He’d probably never be completely over it.

“His name is Ethan,” Justin said after a moment, pouring milk in a bowl filled with cornflakes. “He’s … we were fucking.”

The frown on his forehead deepening, Michael scratched his neck, “So?” Ethan and Justin had fucked – what was the big deal? It wasn’t as if the boy wonder and Brian were exclusive in any way. 

“So – nothing,” Justin replied, averting his eyes, busying himself with the cereal. “I called Ethan, and Brian heard us – end of story.”

Okay, people might call him clueless sometimes, but he wasn’t completely stupid. Something just didn’t sound right here. “Justin,” he said patiently, pouring himself another cup of coffee, “we are friends, right?” The boy shrugged and with a sigh, Michael went on, “Something’s off here.”

Justin shrugged again, and when he looked up his chin was raised in defiance, “So – we fucked more than once. Big deal. It’s not as if Brian’s not done it before.”

For a moment Michael wondered if he really was the clueless one, then he shook his head sadly, “No, he didn’t. Not since you came to live with him.”

Eyes averted again, but clearly uncomfortable now, Justin shoved another spoon full in his mouth, then mumbled around it, “Not that it really matters regarding the guys he fucks all the time.”

“You knew that before,” Michael felt the need to remind the boy. “He never told you differently. And just for the record, Brian’s cut down on his tricks so much, you wouldn’t believe it.” He paused, not sure how to say it, then decided straight on was the best way, “And it matters.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Justin replied on a snort, coughing when milk went down the wrong way. His face red and the eyes teary, he shook his head, “He went with this guy, right before my eyes.”

Michael knew it was true, and he accepted it, but not without a little sadness settling in his gut. There was this one part in him that couldn’t help liking the fact that Brian was unable to settle on one guy, but there was also the other part, the one that was saddened by the knowledge that even though Brian quite obviously loved Justin, he wasn’t able to commit to him. “I think,” he said, sipping from his coffee to order his muddled mind, “he sometimes simply needs to prove something. You know, showing everyone – and most of all himself – that he’s still Brian Kinney, best stud of Liberty Avenue, the greatest fuck ever.”

“Yeah, I know,” Justin whispered, keeping his eyes on the empty bowl before him. “Rationally I know that these men mean nothing to him.”

“But it still hurts,” Michael said knowingly.

The blond head came up, revealing still tearful eyes even though the coughing fit had long passed. “I think … I could live with the men, you know,” he said, “but … the way he sometimes treats me…” He trailed off, frowning into the empty bowl again.

“So, this Ethan,” Michael finally remembered where this had started out from, “is it serious?”

Justin said nothing for a long moment, then shrugged. “Dunno,” he mumbled.

“You realize you can’t do this, right?” Michael asked, feeling his protective instincts rise. Brian was his friend. His best friend. Justin was … he wasn’t really sure what the blond was. But it was no question which side Michael had to take. “You can’t be with both of them. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Justin echoed, sniffling again. “Brian would be the first to tell you that life isn’t fair.”

“True,” Michael replied, feeling suddenly maudlin. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed, “He’s really out of it, huh?” he asked, more himself than his companion.

Yet, hoping to be off the hook for a moment, Justin jumped on the occasion, “What did you want to talk to him about? Can I maybe help?”

Michael suppressed a sneer. The boy wanted to help? The boy who was cheating on his best friend? Not very likely. Still, maybe talking about it was better than keeping it in. “Ben’s going to leave for some godforsaken monastery in South East Asia.”

Justin’s eyes widened in disbelief, “Ben?” Ben wanted to leave? But weren’t he and Michael supposed to be soooo in love? They seemed like the perfect couple. But then, did the perfect couple exist at all? Could it? For a second, Justin had believed that maybe he and Ethan could be it. Now? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Ethan said he loved him. But did he love Ethan? That was the million dollar question. Could he love Ethan? The way he still loved Brian – despite everything that had happened between them, despite the fact that he seemed to be nothing more than a convenient fuck to the older man. Yes, Michael insisted that Brian loved him, and maybe he did, but was it really enough?

“He has this idea that he needs to do this before he dies,” Michael went on, and Justin was kept from continuing his train of thoughts. “God!” Michael exclaimed, running a suddenly shaky hand through his hair. “I think it was his last crisis that made him think about it. I don’t know what to do, you know? I … I don’t want him to leave, but I love him. And if it makes him happy, if he needs to do it-“

“That’s such bullshit, Mikey,” came Brian’s voice. 

Justin’s head snapped up, while Michael had to turn to see his friend standing on the top stairs, dressed in sweats and a shirt, his hair standing on end, his face showing a days growth of stubble, the eyes bleary. After a moment of hesitation he descended the stairs and walked over to the kitchen, sniffing the air. 

Without asking, Justin turned and filled a mug with coffee and handed it to his lover who took it equally silent.

Michael watched them with growing amazement. “Fuck, you act like a couple who’ve been married for twenty years.”

“He likes to please me,” Brian said, sipping from his mug, then added, “sometimes.” The last word was accompanied by a short look at the blond who quickly busied himself by placing his empty bowl in the sink.

“So,” Brian said after a moment, leaning against the counter, “Ben’s decided that he needs to find his inner self, or what?”

Michael shrugged, wondering if Brian was in any condition for this. His eyes were strangely shadowed. “I have no idea. After his last brush with death, he’s changed. He says that he always wanted to do this. Shit. I mean he’s got all that Asian culture stuff in his apartment, and he read all these books about Buddhism.”

“Maybe he just wants to know if he’ll come back in another life,” Justin suggested, then sighed when Michael and Brian glared at him. He held up his hands, “Hey, it was just a thought. I mean, isn’t Buddhism all about rebirth?”

“And peace, and …,” Michael sighed, too, “so many things I can’t keep them in my head anymore.”

“If he needs to do that, then he should,” Brian said, tentatively shifting on to a stool. A tiny flicker in his hooded eyes was the only hint that it wasn’t all that comfortable. 

“That’s easy for you to say, it’s not your boyfriend who is leaving,” his best friend cried, then wished he could take the words back the next instant. Shit, Michael thought, when he saw Brian flinch ever so slightly. Fuck! “Brian-“

His eyes on Justin, Brian slowly put down the mug. “Keep out of it, Mikey.”

“You were the one who brought it up,” Michael defended himself. 

“And now I’m the one ending it,” Brian replied, his voice not leaving room for any argument. “This is between Justin and I. Leave it. Try to solve your own problems.”

“That was the reason I came,” Michael shot back, angry now. He didn’t need his friend often these days, and most of the time Brian was far too much occupied with Justin, and now, the one time he really needed him, Brian didn’t seem to care. It was simply not fair.

Brian shifted a little on the stool, suppressing a grimace, and looked at his friend, “I told you what I think of Ben’s little adventure. If you hold him back he’s going to resent you for it.”

“He’s right, you know,” Justin said, his eyes on Brian. “But maybe he’s just waiting for a sign from you. I mean, he loves you. Maybe … maybe he’s hoping you’ll hold him back, you know, deep inside.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that, “What do you want him to do?”

Justin shrugged, “He should talk to Ben.”

“I should’ve known that pretty words are what you really want,” Brian replied, rolling his lips. 

“We’re not talking about me,” Justin snapped. “But yeah, people like to hear from time to time how their partners feel about them.”

Michael rolled his eyes at that, but kept from commenting. This was getting way out of hand for his taste. He had wanted a quiet talk with Brian and had stumbled into what obviously was a serious argument between the two men. Plus, Brian was still behaving kind of weird. He did that sometimes, and Michael didn’t like it one bit. “Hey, guys.” Two heads came around, two pairs of eyes, one blue, one hazel, were looking at him.

Michael cleared his throat. “Ah … how about I’m going now and leave you to,” he waved his right hand, “whatever you need to talk about.” He had to deal with shit of his own, and neither Brian nor Justin seemed to have any ready solutions for him. And he *so* didn’t want to think about Justin cheating on Brian. The little shit. 

“There’s nothing we need to talk about,” Brian protested, giving Justin a look through narrowed eyes. “It’s all bla, bla, bla, anyway.” He walked over to Michael and slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “It’s nothing worth talking about. I mean, it’s not as if Justin and I are some married couple. The doors are open, we can go whenever we feel we need to.” His tongue stuck in his cheek, he added, “Ben and you, however, are so happily married, it makes me want to barf.”

“Shut up,” Michael hissed, shaking off his arm and moving away from him. He should have known that talking to Brian would be completely useless. He might be his best friend, but where relationships were concerned the other man didn’t have the best track record. No, screw that, Brian didn’t have a clue what it meant to be committed and in love. He shot his best friend a glare, “I don’t need this shit from you. Ben is leaving me, for God’s sake.”

Brian sighed loudly, “He isn’t leaving you. He’s searching,” he waved his hand, “for his inner self or something.”

“Oh, thanks,” Michael snorted, “that makes me feel so much better. Thanks so much for nothing.” Not sparing any of the men another glance, he stomped to the door, opened it, walked out, and closed it behind him, leaving Justin and Brian on their own once again.

*****

Five minutes later Brian was still standing on the same spot, and Justin was about to go over to him, when the older man finally moved. Turning, he walked back to the counter, pouring himself another cup of coffee. Sipping cautiously, he scrutinized Justin over the rim. Gulping the black brew down, he slightly tilted his head, “Why are you still here? Isn’t Evan waiting for you?”

Justin closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He was so not up for this kind of shit. He was still trying to understand what was wrong with his lover, and he didn’t want to deal with Ethan on top of it. He paused for a moment, his eyes widening. He didn’t want to deal with Ethan, period. Not today, not tomorrow, not at any time. Suddenly the talented violinist had lost his appeal to him. 

But why? 

Was it because Brian was obviously in serious trouble, even though he tried his best to hide it? Or has Ethan’s sweet talking already worn off? Whatever it was, Justin suddenly didn’t feel the urge anymore to hear what the violinist was saying, and felt sick at the thought of Ethan’s hand on him – or worse. 

He shuddered slightly, but then pulled himself together and concentrated on his lover, “No, Ethan is not waiting for me. I told him we wouldn’t see each other today.”

Rolling his lips inward, Brian frowned a little, “I bet his hands can do things you were only dreaming of, I mean with all the practice his fingers undoubtedly have.”

Justin tilted his head, “You know, if you were anyone but Brian Kinney, I’d think you’re actually jealous.”

At that the older man laughed, “Don’t kid yourself, *kid*. I’m not going to suddenly turn into some kind of breeder-look-alike. I don’t do jealous. I told you from the start, there are no locks on our doors. We’re both free to go.” He took a step away from the counter and winced at the discomfort the movement caused him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the rising nausea down. 

“Brian, please,” Justin said, moving closer to him. “I just want to help.”

“There’s nothing to help,” Brian replied, walking back to the stairs leading to the bedroom. “All I want is to sink into total oblivion. So, if you’d just stay as far away as you could, please?” The words were delivered in a manner that left no room for discussion. Brian wanted to be on his own, so he would be on his own. 

Justin watched his lover disappear behind the shades, and with a sigh decided that seeing Ethan now was as good as any time. Maybe he could at least clean up that part of his life. It would be hard, but compared to dealing with Brian, it seemed like a piece of cake.

*****

Ethan was completely involved in his playing and didn’t see Justin as he stood in the doorway, watching him, the same way he had watched him once before. Then, Ethan has seemed so perfect, so beautiful, now, he was simply the reminder of Justin’s weakness. And he had been weak, falling for a man while he was still involved with Brian. Okay, so things like that happened, but he still felt sick at how he’d betrayed the man who’d given so much, never asking something in return. 

The song ended then, and Ethan paused, taking several deep breaths, a sure sign of how much he’d put into the piece. Justin didn’t know the composer, but it had sounded beautiful. Everything Ethan played did. Whatever his feelings were now, he would never deny that Ethan was extremely talented. In addition, he was also good looking and had a natural charm that made hearts open to him. Justin was certain that Ethan was going to have a brilliant future. 

“Hey!” Ethan’s surprised and delighted voice tore Justin back to the present and he forced a smile on his face when the other man came over, hugged him hard, and then planted a kiss on his mouth. Justin responded for a moment, then broke the kiss and pulled away.

“What?” A puzzled frown appeared on Ethan’s face. “Is something wrong?” Not waiting for the answer, he went back to pick up his violin once again. “Man, did you just hear that? Maybe Justin-deprivation results in musical genius?” He grinned at that, looking at his lover,” How come you had time to come? I thought there was something going on with him.”

Ethan rarely referred to Brian by name, and it had never bothered Justin before. In fact, he’d understood, knowing that Ethan had a hard time dealing with being the second one, the one Justin didn’t not talk about openly. Today, however, it made Justin flinch ever so slightly. Why it suddenly bothered him, he had no idea. But he hadn’t come to talk about Brian, and talking with Ethan about Brian was out of the question. 

“We need to talk,” he said simply entering the room. It was large and was given to students so they could train in peace. 

“Uh-oh,” Ethan followed him, watching the slight swagger of Justin’s hips, getting hard just thinking about they way they could move when they … He cleared his throat, “Why don’t I like that sound of that?”

Justin turned, his face a little sheepish, “Because you know me too well?”

“So,” Ethan took a deep breath, resigning himself to talk instead of hot, steamy sex, “what is it? You need to take care of him? I … understand that. I’m sorry I was so … harsh before. But it’s,” he combed a hand through his hair, stopping with a sigh. “I just hate when I have to beg for every minute. I hate being the dirty secret.”

“You were never the dirty secret,” Justin protested, then sighed, too. “I like you Ethan, I really like you a lot.”

The other man winced, “Ouch. I really hate those words. My last lover dumped…” He trailed off when he saw the emotions flickering over Justin’s face, “You are not going to dump me, are you?” he asked, already feeling his guts clench. 

“No!” Justin exclaimed, then paused for a moment. “But I … need a break.” Yeah, a break. He needed a break. That sounded good. Not so final, left him room to think about the whole thing, to decide what he really wanted. 

“A … break?” 

“Yeah,” Justin shrugged. “I’m sorry, but … Brian’s … he needs me right now. And I … still love him.”

For a moment Ethan just stared at the blond, then his face twisted into a pained grimace and he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths, thinking about all the relaxation techniques he’d learned early on to improve playing in front of an audience. It wasn’t working. Not that it surprised him. 

Taking another deep breath, he rubbed a palm over his face, before looking at Justin again, “Well, at least you’re honest. I can give you that. I mean, sure, you just ripped my heart out and all, but hey,” he clucked his tongue appreciatively, “at least you were honest, right?”

“Ethan,” Justin made a step towards the other man, but stopped when the violinist held up both hands. “I’m really-“

“Sorry,” Ethan cut him off, snorting. “You know, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to be sorry. I love you.”

“I know,” Justin whispered, feeling miserable. God, what had he done? He loved Brian. And Brian … Ethan loved him, and he … whatever he felt for Ethan, he was pretty sure it wasn’t love. But he genuinely liked the other man, and didn’t want to lose him. God, what a mess. “Ethan, please, give me some time,” he begged, hating the desperate sound in his voice, but not able to suppress it. 

“You know,” Ethan laughed harshly, starting to pace the spacious room, “this would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. The guy treats you like shit, even makes a farce out of your birthday and you’re still in love with him.” He shook his head, “I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

Justin took the blows the words caused in him, and didn’t try to defend himself, feeling that he deserved every one of them. He should never have gotten involved with Ethan, knowing that the other man felt a lot deeper than he did. Shit. Shit. Double shit. “Ethan-“

“No,” the violinist held up a hand, “save it. Go back to Brian. Love him, be miserable with him.”

The blond stared at Ethan, then, after a moment, nodded, and went to the door. He was about to leave when the other man stopped him. Not turning, he waited.

“When you know what you want,” Ethan said softly. “You know where to find me.”

Justin nodded once at that, and then left. Ethan watched the now empty doorway for a long time, before he turned back to his violin, picked it up and started to play. Soon he was so entranced by his own play that all other thoughts had fled his mind. Whatever happened in his life, he still had his music.


	4. Strangers In The Night

Cursing under his breath, Justin grappled with the newspaper and groceries in his arms and tried to reach the keys he had stuck between his teeth, without dropping everything. A silly part of his mind realized that this was a perfect metaphor for his whole damned life right now.

 

He dropped the keys. 

 

Swearing through clenched teeth, he carefully lowered the bags to the floor and picked up the keys to open the loft and let himself back in again. Tossing the newspaper on the counter, he turned back to get the two bags he’d left at the door and carried them into the kitchen. The loft was still quiet, no noise coming from the bedroom, where he could see the outlines of a still figure beneath the sheets. No greeting was forthcoming, no hey, you’re back. Not that he expected one. 

 

Brian’s behavior was more than strange, and he was still not one step closer to resolving the mystery. And frankly, now that Brian had learned about his affair with Ethan Gold, he didn’t think he would be able to find out what was going on any time soon. Brian hadn’t said anything, but Justin had seen it in the older man’s eyes. Under different circumstances he would even have been thrilled to recognize hurt and betrayal, emotions that told him that Brian did care, despite the way his lover acted around him most of the time. But right now it more than just counterproductive. 

 

And now, on top of the mess his life already was, he’d hurt Ethan too. Bright, loving, romantic Ethan, who’d become caught up in all this. Ethan was easy to be around, he understood what Justin was so desperately searching for, he was an artist, too, and – unlike Brian – never had problems in expressing his feelings. Being around Ethan was like balm for Justin’s battered soul, a gentle stroking of wishes neglected by his emotionally crippled older lover. The older lover who was obviously not alright, but who wouldn’t be forthcoming with answers any time soon.

 

He hated not knowing. Hated it when he couldn’t read Brian. He used to be able to, but somehow – with the bat to his head – he’d lost the ability. Justin hated not understanding why Brian was bothered, why he suffered. Hated not knowing about the cause, not being able to help. They were … close, they were lovers, and weren’t lovers supposed to understand each other, supposed to compensate, to give and take? Brian was the man he loved, the man he wanted more than anything in this world, or was he? Had he fallen in love with Brian or just with the image Justin had made up of him in his mind?

 

Brian was still an enigma, and Justin had known it all along. But it hadn’t bothered him previous to the prom. Now it did, and he didn’t understand why. Brian wasn’t predictable, had never been, mostly did what nobody expected, and apart from Michael nobody had ever managed to get close to him. For a while Justin had convinced himself that he was the other exception, but he knew now that he wasn’t. 

 

“Justin?”

 

The single word dragged him out of his thoughts and back to the real world. Turning he found Brian standing on top of the stairs, his face still weary and drawn, looking as if he was suffering from lack of sleep, even after he’d spent most of the day in bed. “Did you go out to buy groceries?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin replied softly. “You hungry?”

 

For a moment Brian actually looked as if he would be sick again, then he inhaled deeply and after holding the air for a moment, exhaled slowly. “No, not really.” For a moment there was silence, before Brian cocked his head, “You were gone for quite some time.” 

 

Shit! Justin gulped. He was busted. “I … uh … met someone … and we … uh … talked.”

 

A sarcastic chuckle was his answer, then a snort, then Brian turned and disappeared in the bathroom. Yep, definitely busted. Without a doubt Brian knew that Justin had gone to see Ethan. And after what he and the violinist had talked about, he could hardly tell Brian about it. ‘Hey, Ethan and I have decided to cool it off until you get better and I can decide what I really want’. It wouldn’t come across all that well, he assumed. 

 

Justin heard the shower start, for the third time today. That was odd. Not that Brian didn’t use the shower quite frequently, but never like this. And never just on his own. If the older man did shower more than once a day it was mostly because he decided to join his younger lover and use the occasion for more than just cleaning. 

 

Fuck! The whole damned thing was really a complete waste of time. He was never going to get a clue what went on in Brian’s head. And now Brian was closing him out more than ever. The way he’d shut the door to the bathroom was all the sign Justin needed. He wasn’t as clueless as Michael, or not anymore, he admitted to himself with a soft sigh, to believe that he’d ever figure out the other man completely. Yet, for a time he’d hoped …

 

And then the phone rang. Startled, Justin flinched, then took a deep breath before picking it up. “Yeah?”

 

“Justin, is that you?”

 

For a moment he didn’t recognize the voice, but then it dawned on him, “Cynthia?”

 

“I need to talk to Brian. It’s urgent.”

 

“Ah … he’s showering right now. Can I take a message for him?”

 

“Actually …,” she seemed to consider the possibility, “oh, well, why not. He had me check out this guy … uh … Ethan something … he’s some kind of student at PIFA. Hey, does that mean you know the guy? Anyway … could you please tell him that I’ve got all the information he wanted to have?”

 

Justin stood, dumbstruck, holding the receiver in front of his face and staring at it in total disbelief. Ethan something? What the fuck was going on? 

 

“Justin? Justin, are you still there?”

 

Remembering that Cynthia was still on the other end of the line, he quickly put the receiver back to his ear, “Yeah … I’m here. I … I’m going to tell him. Don’t worry.”

 

“Great,” she said, seemingly relieved. “I’m going to mail it to him at his private address. He can read the thing as soon as he wants.”

 

“Okay, thanks.”

 

“No prob. That’s what I get paid for. Bye, Justin. Was nice talking to you.”

 

“Bye, Cynthia,” he replied absentmindedly, his mind reeling with what he’d just learned. Brian had had him checked out? Or rather Ethan? Could it be true? But Cynthia said so, and so it had to be. And that, in consequence, meant that Brian had known about Ethan all along. Fuck! Brian had fucking lied to him, acting as if Ethan was some big fucking news. God! He wanted to go right into the damned shower and slap Brian’s head for being such a fucking twat. 

 

On the other hand, what did it mean? Did it mean Brian cared more for Justin that he’d let on? Justin had always suspected it, but lately he had doubted it. When, Justin wondered, had words become more important to him than actions? 

 

*****

 

He had always loved the feel of steaming hot water pounding on his neck. Massages were good and everything, but there was nothing in this world like a hot shower, with plenty of pressure. Thank God he had had this huge tank installed when the loft was finally his, thanks to the homophobic asshole and his poolside coolers. 

 

He was sure if he sat down and gave it a good effort, he could probably write a dozen slogans to sell the concept of a hot shower – only, he wouldn’t have anyone to sell them to. He was certainly not alone in how he felt about it, Justin, for example, also knew about the advantages of hot showers. Usually he would invite his lover, would yearn for Justin’s soft hands – the boy had the softest hands on this planet – washing his back, using the intimacy for his own perfect foreplay. Not today though. The mere thought of hands touching his skin let nausea rise once again.

 

He stepped out of the shower, and walked to the mirror and had to wipe steam off it so he could shave. Not that he needed it, but he felt this irresistible urge to become clean. His eyes looked like shit. Too much red surrounding the usual hazel. Lack of sleep didn’t really help to maintain a youthful look. The razor in his hand, he stopped in mid-motion and stared at his image, wondering if he was supposed to look different now. 

 

How did someone look who was … No! He couldn’t even think the word. A long time ago, almost an eternity, he had made a vow never to be a victim again, when his face had been swollen by his father’s blows, he had sworn that night that nobody would ever make him feel that way again. But somebody had, and he hated that with every fiber of his body, hated himself for letting it happen, for being weak, being the victim once again.

 

The razor was still in his hand, the blade sharp – why hadn’t he chosen the electric, he wondered. It looked … almost inviting, it’s shining metal blinking at him, telling him, hey this is easy, you just have to use me, things will be so much easier then, so much …

 

NO! Shaking his head at his own reflection, Brian put the razor down and decided that he could go without shaving for another night. Nobody was going to see him anyway. Nobody, except Justin.

 

Shit. Justin. What was he going to do with the boy. God, Justin was such a kid. Full of romantic bullshit and hopeless wishes. He wanted flowers and picnics and tokens of love, the poor little fool. Did he really think life was like that? Hadn’t he of all people learned by now that life was unforgiving and cruel, not caring if anyone was ending up lost on the way? Hadn’t he learned from that bat to his head? Life didn’t provide happy endings. It was a struggle, and you could do nothing but try not to drown in the vast ocean of loneliness. Justin still believed that people cared for other people, but Brian had learned differently. People didn’t care for people. People only used people, as simple as that.

 

Sighing slightly, Brian stepped away from the mirror and dried himself as much as possible in the damp air, then threw the towel in the corner, and reached for his robe, only to find it missing. Rubbing his forehead he remembered leaving it at the foot of his bed. Usually he wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving the bathroom naked, but today he felt suddenly awkward about showing himself. Did he look different? Could one see what had happened by merely looking?

 

Finally gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom and after finding the robe just where he’d known it would be, Brian went down into the living area of the loft and found Justin, standing near the table, phone receiver in his hand, but staring into space as if he wasn’t really there.

 

God, the boy was gorgeous. With his blond hair, his almost translucent skin, he was a fucking prize, a prize Brian did feel he didn’t deserve. Now less than ever. “Another soft talk with lover boy?” he asked in his best nasty voice, passing his young lover on his way to the kitchen.

 

Justin almost dropped the receiver, obviously startled by the older man’s unexpected appearance, but he caught himself quickly, and followed Brian into the kitchen. 

 

“You knew all along.”

 

Not sure what the blond was talking about, Brian did what one did in cases like this. Play dumb. “Huh?”

 

“About Ethan. Don’t even try to deny it. Cynthia just called and asked me to tell you that the information you wanted about ‘Ethan something’ is now in your private e-mail account.”

 

If playing dumb wasn’t possible anymore, the next best thing was playing cool. Even though Brian hated the fact that Cynthia had spilled the beans about his little secret, he knew that sooner or later he would’ve told Justin himself. Keeping his hands steady, he poured himself a cup of coffee and turned slowly to face his enraged lover. Taking a sip, he raised a brow, “So?” 

 

“So?” Justin spat, his eyes blazing with anger, “You are a fucking liar. You made me feel so bad about going behind your back. And all the time you knew!” He took a deep breath, then asked, “How?”

 

Brian took another slow sip. “How – what?”

 

“How did you find out? Did Michael spill the beans or what?”

 

Putting his cup down, Brian sighed, “You were there. Michael didn’t have a fucking clue.”

 

“So, how did you find out?”

 

Reaching for a fresh donut Justin had obviously brought while out buying groceries, Brian took a bite and chewed slowly, watching his lover closely all the time. Justin was angry. Furious, even. And he looked fucking beautiful when he was like this. “Do you really think I’m stupid?” he asked after a moment.

 

“Of course I don’t think that.”

 

“Good. Then trust me to see when you leave drawings of someone other than me lying around. Nudes, if I may add. Add the fucking CD and a phone call from PIFA asking if Mr. Taylor was well again, I just put two and two together.”

 

“You never told me they were asking-“

 

Fed up with the whole scene, Brian simply cut him off, “You never told me about fucking around with another guy. I think we’re even, don’t you?” He was about to pick up his cup again when his eyes fell on the newspaper Justin had thrown on the counter when he’d returned. 

 

****

 

“Brian-“ Justin started, but never got to finish his sentence, when Brian suddenly turned deathly pale, gripping the edge of the counter. All thought about Ethan and Brian’s betrayal instantly forgotten, Justin rushed to his lover’s side. “Brian?”

 

“No,” the other man muttered almost soundlessly, starting to rock back and forth on his feet. “No.”

 

Alarmed, Justin put a hand on Brian’s shoulder, “Brian, what’s wrong?”

 

But no reaction was forthcoming. Instead Brian continued his rocking, muttering unintelligible words, his eyes huge and unfocussed. 

 

Justin started to panic. Even after what he’d seen before, this seemed so much worse. Should he call someone? A doctor? His mom? Deb? Michael? Shit!

 

“Brian, please, tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Nothing. The older man didn’t react. But his eyes were no longer unfocussed but starting at the picture on the front page of the paper. WELL KNOWN GAY LAWYER FOUND MURDERED IN HIS OWN BED, the headline read. And underneath, ‘Clarence Leyton was found strangled in his bed by his long-time housekeeper, Marianna Cleres. Was the well known lawyer the victim of a gay sex crime?’ 

 

Clarence Leyton? Justin had heard the name before. The guy was a self-proclaimed savior of gays wrongly accused of crimes by the police. But he’d never met him. Had Brian?

 

“Brian? Do you know that guy?” Another thought flashed in his mind. Had Brian fucked the guy? Justin dismissed it instantly. Even if Brian had fucked Leyton, it didn’t matter right now. Brian’s breath was coming in short gasps now, his mouth slightly open, his eyes still fixed on the picture. Or was there a connection between the two men, Justin didn’t know about? The blond snorted inwardly. There was so much in Brian’s life he didn’t know about, of course it was possible.

 

Again he started to speak, when suddenly someone knocked at the door. Brian flinched violently, almost stumbling backwards when he let go of the counter and blinked. “S-someone’s at the door,” the older man said, not looking at his young lover.

 

Nodding, Justin turned towards the noise, “I’ll go check. Just … just wait here, okay.” Brian didn’t react and Justin took it as agreement. Taking a deep breath, he went to the door, pulled it open, only to see a familiar face standing there. “Detective Horwath?”

 

The older man blinked, for a moment surprised that the young man in front of him seemed to know him by name, then he remembered Debbie addressing the boy. “Sunshine, right?” 

 

Now it was Justin’s turn to blink in surprise, “Uh … yeah.”

 

“Debbie calls you Sunshine. She said so.”

 

“Yeah, she does,” Justin confirmed, still a little distracted by Brian who by now was leaning back against the fridge, his eyes closed, his thumb and index finger slowly rubbing the socks of his eyes. “Uh … is there anything I … I mean, we can do for you?”

 

Detective Horwath cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with is mission, “I’m afraid I’m here officially.”

 

Justin gulped, “Did I … do something?”

 

The detective laughed slightly at that “No, nothing. But I need to speak to Mr. Kinney.”

 

Feeling his stomach clench, Brian was in no shape to talk to anyone, let alone to the police, Justin’s eyes flickered to his lover, who had quite obviously followed the conversation at the door and was now coming over to join them, still wearing nothing but his robe. He looked at the detective still standing in the doorway, then walked over to the sofa without saying a single word. 

 

Again taking that as agreement, Justin stepped away from the door, motioning Carl Horwath in. “Can I get you something?” he asked. “I just made some fresh coffee.”

 

“No, thanks,” the detective declined, before he followed Brian and stopped behind one of the chairs. “Mr. Kinney, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to talk to you about a case.”

 

Nodding, Brian indicated the chair, but Carl shook his head. “Okay,” Brian sighed, and Justin was glad to see that his lover seemed to have pulled himself together. “So, what is this all about?”

 

“Did you see the paper today?”

 

Only a flicker of his right lid indicated that Brian was bothered by the question. Justin bit his lower lip, anxiously scrutinizing his lover’s face. “Yes.”

 

“Then you already know that Clarence Leyton was found strangled in his bed this morning.”

 

Again the lid flickered, and the fingers of one hand clenched into a fist. “I saw it.” The words came out smooth and not showing any emotion. 

 

“As you probably know, Mr. Leyton was a very well known member of Pittsburgh’s gay community.”

 

Amusement suddenly shone in Brian’s eyes, “What? Just because some gay lawyer ends up with a scarf around his head, I have to be involved.” The other hand fisted as well, Justin noticed.

 

The detective’s gaze sharpened, “How do you know it was a scarf?”

 

For a moment Brian’s cool façade slipped, but was back in place a second later. Justin had seen it nevertheless, and he was sure Horwath had too. The guy might be a butch cop, but Justin had the feeling the man was nobody’s fool.

 

Brian, seemingly unfazed once more, shrugged, “That’s what gays normally use. So I just assumed.”

 

Horwath nodded, clearly not buying it. “Anyway. Were you acquainted with the deceased?”

 

Again the lid flickered, “We’ve met.”

 

“You knew each other intimately?”

 

Justin held his breath. Brian looked straight at the detective. “If you want to know if we fucked. Yes, we did. However, I wouldn’t call that intimate.”

 

Again the other man nodded, while Justin watched the whole exchange with growing fascination. So Leyton and Brian had known each other. That would explain why Brian was shocked to read about the lawyer being murdered. Still, it did not explain the violent reaction only a few minutes ago.

 

Just for good measure, Brian smiled, “I fuck a lot of guys, detective. The next day I don’t even remember their names.” The smile widened, “Does that shock you?”

 

The older man was unaffected, “Hardly. So you and the deceased … had sex?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How long ago?”

 

“What?” 

 

“I asked-“

 

Brian made a slashing motion with his hand, “And I just told you that I can barely remember the guy’s names. I certainly don’t remember dates. It was some time ago.”

 

“More than a month?” the detective demanded.

 

“Probably. Yeah.” For a moment Brian’s eyes flickered to Justin, then they were back on the older man. “Why?”

 

“Nothing in particular.” For a moment the detective paused and looked around the loft, “You have a very expensive home, Mr. Kinney.”

 

“I worked hard for it,” Brian replied, his voice cool, almost detached. “Is there anything else you want to ask, or are you done?”

 

“I’m done for now.” Horwath turned towards the door, but before he reached it, he paused and looked once again at Brian, “Where were you last night, Mr. Kinney.”

 

Fists clenching again, Brian stood, “I was fucking some guy.”

 

“Of course you can’t remember the name.”

 

“Of course not,” Brian replied, the lid starting to flicker again. 

 

The detective nodded, “That’s it – for now. We might have some questions later.” He gave Justin a quick, fatherly smile, “Sorry for intruding.”

 

“That’s okay,” Justin hastened to say and followed Horwath to the door, and let the older man out. 

 

Before he was done closing it, he already heard Brian retching in the bathroom.


	5. Strangers In The Night

Carl Horwath looked at the woman across from him, and forced himself to return her smile. He truly liked her. She was colorful, alright, but he liked that in a woman. And the lady was tough. Raising a son at the tender age of eighteen, all by herself, she had to be. He enjoyed her company and liked the way her mind worked, and he had been looking forward to this date for the whole week, but now that they were finally here, enjoying a really excellent lobster, he simply couldn’t put his latest case from his mind.

 

“The face is smiling, but the mind is far, far away.”

 

He blinked at Debbie Novotny, who was wiping her fingers, and sighed. “I’m sorry. But I swear it’s got nothing to do with the company. It’s just … this case I’m working on.”

 

She nodded, understanding in her eyes, “Yeah. Has to be tough being a police officer.”

 

He chuckled, “It has it’s ups and downs. But that’s not the problem here.” Looking at her for a moment, he shook his head, “Since the guy ended up dead in the dumpster, it seems they’re shoving all gay crimes my way.”

 

Her eyes went instantly alert, “Another murder?”

 

“Yeah. But it’s not related to the boy behind the diner.”

 

The eyes flashed, “How can you be so sure?”

 

He sighed again. He should’ve known she’d react like this the moment he mentioned the words gay crime. “Because this guy was rich. A well known attorney.”

 

She cocked her head, she asked, “You’re handling the Leyton-murder?”

 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And it’s ugly. Not just the fact that the guy was strangled with his own scarf, but he’s got a whole string of lovers. All of them possible suspects.”

 

She laughed slightly. “Fucks,” she said.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I said, fucks. They’re not lovers. They were fucks. Just ask Brian.” At that he winced and her eyes flashed again, “Don’t tell me he’s involved somehow?”

 

Rubbing a starting headache behind his forehead, Carl wished he had never mentioned the case at all. Damn. The woman was just too smart. And he wasn’t allowed to discuss details. Especially with people somehow related to possible suspects. “Debbie, I really can’t talk about it.”

 

“Bullshit.” She took a sip from the wine, before she went on. “Is or isn’t Brian involved?”

 

“I talked to him,” he finally admitted, hoping she’d be content with it. Of course she wasn’t, and he hadn’t really expected her to be. 

 

“You talked to him? Oh shit!” 

 

“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. He’d bet a month’s salary that she knew something about the whole thing. Hadn’t she told him her son and Brian Kinney were almost like brothers. “Debbie, if you keep something to yourself that could-“

 

“Stop right there,” she interrupted him, holding up a hand. “Brian’s almost like a son to me. What do you expect me to do? I’ve known him since he was fourteen years old. Brian’s a little shit, and he can be mean, but I’m telling you, Brian’s no killer. He would never …” she suddenly paled and trailed off, making him even more suspicious. 

 

“He would never – what?”

 

She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it without saying a word. That in itself was strange enough. And he’d never seen her pale like this before. “Debbie-“ he started, but was again cut off, by a shake of her head.

 

“Don’t ask me,” she pleaded. “If this,” she gestured first to him then at herself, “means anything to you, then don’t ask.”

 

For a moment he closed his eyes, cursing his job and what it sometimes forced him to do. But he was a cop, and this was his case. Slowly letting himself look at her again, he took a deep breath, “It means a lot,” he started, hating himself when he saw the relief in her eyes, “but I’m a cop. A man was killed. Anything that might help me solve the crime is important.”

 

The relief had left her eyes the instant the but had left his lips. Now she raised her chin, her eyes suddenly hard and cold, “Then, Mr. Horwath, our paths have to part.” With that she rose, tossed some bills on the table, ignoring his protests, and without another word left the restaurant.

 

*****

 

Brian’s alarm went off way too early for his taste. That didn’t stop him, though. Didn’t stop him from thumping it so hard he ended up with a bruise in his palm. He almost fell out of bed, then stumbled into the bathroom with his eyes almost closed. They remained that way as he showered, but they instantly popped open when the stall door opened and Justin joined him under the hot spray. He forced himself not to flinch when familiar hands touched his back, then started lathering him up, softly, gently. 

 

“Morning,” Justin murmured, kissing the older man on his nape. 

 

Brian felt a shudder run through his body. And hated it. Hated him. He had hated his father for a long time, but he’d never felt like this. Hadn’t even known it was possible. Hadn’t known that a single person was able to awake such rage inside of him. And such disgust. And worse, such self-loathing. From one moment to the next his life was suddenly over-ruled by one thing that he was barely able to see the rest anymore. 

 

A shit of a way to live – but he had no other choice right now. If he’d let go of the walls, carefully erected over decades, he would crumble into a single ball of misery. The walls were all that kept him standing, going. 

 

The hands wandered lower, then paused, and Brian knew Justin was now looking at the bruise right above his ass. Fuck!

 

“It looks bad,” Justin whispered, and Brian could hear the words catch in the kid’s throat. 

 

“Feels like it, too,” Brian replied flippantly, glad that his voice sounded the way it always did. No pain. No remembered horror. No images. No hands. 

 

Nausea rose again, and he swallowed it down. Not now. Not here. Not ever again. 

 

He gasped when arms came around his middle and Justin’s body pressed close to him. The kid had done it before, but now he couldn’t stand it. Justin’s morning erection was pressing into his thigh and Brian felt as if he was suffocating. Acting purely on instinct, the urge to free himself, to get rid of the danger, too strong. He turned and violently pushed his young lover away, not caring when Justin’s back connected with the wall of the shower stall with a loud thump. 

 

Gasping for breath, his heart like a jack-hammer in his chest, Brian saw Justin blink water from eyes, that showed surprise and confusion. “Brian?”

 

The older man shook his head, for a moment staring at his lover as if he’d never seen him before. “I … I’m sorry.” He was shocked, disgusted with himself for reacting that way. He wasn’t a violent person, had made a vow to himself never to follow in his father’s footsteps, not under any circumstances. But now he’d pushed his lover against the wall. “Justin – I –“ 

 

“It’s okay,” the younger man soothed, slowly moved closer to his lover. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

 

“You … you surprised me…”

 

Justin blinked again, “You’re trembling. Are you cold?” Trembling was a vast understatement. Brian had started shaking like a leaf. His back was pressed to the opposite wall of the shower, his eyes were huge, but shadowed and he was blinking repeatedly, and his breath was coming in gasps. Carefully not to startle his lover even more, Justin reached out and to his great relief, this time, Brian didn’t flinch away from his touch. “Come,” he coaxed gently, “you need to get out of the shower and dry. And then you’re going back to bed.”

 

“Can’t,” the older man muttered, following Justin like a child would be following his mother. “Need to be at work.”

 

“You’ll be of no use for them,” the blond replied firmly, using a soft, fluffy towel to dry his lover’s quickly chilling skin. It was warm in the loft, but it seemed to do nothing for Brian’s body heat. Goal finally achieved, he used another towel to rub Brian’s hair, then pushed the older man onto the bed, and draped the covers over him. “You stay here. I’m going to get some coffee, and toast. And the phone so you can call Cynthia and tell her you’re sick. Or do you want me to do it?” 

 

Justin had no idea where this determination was suddenly coming from, but at seeing Brian staring at him like a frightened animal something in him had finally snapped. He felt as if he was just coming to life again. When Brian didn’t answer his question, just snuggled between the covers, Justin left the bedroom, and after starting the coffee maker, he dialed the number he knew would connect him directly with Cynthia’s desk. 

 

“Brian’s Kinney’s office. Can I help you?”

 

“Cynthia. It’s Justin.”

 

“Hey, Justin. Seems we’re going to be phone-buddies in no time. Can I do something for you?”

 

“I’m just calling because Brian won’t be in today. Probably neither tomorrow.”

 

“Is he sick?” She seemed surprised and genuinely concerned. 

 

“Kind of, yeah. He doesn’t feel well and has a chill.”

 

“Well, tell him to stay the fuck away from the agency then. I don’t want to catch anything, I have this fabulous date tomorrow night and I don’t want to ruin it by sniffling all over the dishes.”

 

Justin had to grin. Brian certainly had rubbed off on his assistant. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

 

“Oh, Justin, while you’re on the phone, I wanted to thank you for being so understanding.”

 

The blond frowned, “Understanding?” What the fuck was she talking about.

 

“Yeah, you know about your time away with Brian. I’m sorry it got fucked up, but with Vance taking over the agency it was tough on all of us. The guy fired almost the entire staff, which included me. By working like an animal Brian didn’t just save his job, he saved mine, too, and gave me a raise as a nice bonus. I know how much you were looking forward to spending time with him. And he did, too. He had it all planned and organized.”

 

Rendered speechless, Justin only managed to give an unintelligible, “Hmmm.”

 

She sighed slightly, “I’d like to have been a fly on the wall at his return though. He bought this outrageously expensive bottle of champagne and went home to celebrate with you. Just between you and me, is he really that good?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin answered lamely, his mind reeling. 

 

She made a clicking sound with her tongue, “Damn. I knew it. Too bad he’s gay. Oh well, you probably don’t mind.”

 

“No,” Justin said, glad that the conversation didn’t need him to give more than one syllable answers. Jesus Fucking Christ. Brian had come home to celebrate with him and he’d been gone. Snowboarding in Vermont. And he’d felt so righteous about his own indignation. Shit! Talk about missing things. Brian, of course, hadn’t said a word when Justin had returned a few days later. Which was only natural for his lover. Brian never talked about his feelings. And under no circumstances would the older man reveal his vulnerability. Which said an awful lot about trust, or rather the lack of it, between them.

 

And hadn’t he proven Brian right by cheating on him with Ethan, by going behind his lover’s back, and establishing a second relationship? No wonder Brian didn’t trust him. Justin had never given him any indication that he was worth it. On the contrary, he’d, albeit unconsciously, done everything to destroy any trust that existed so far. Double shit!

 

Well, he couldn’t change that now. All he could do was moving forward and hope that one day Brian might start trusting him again. “Cynthia?” he asked, interrupting her in mid-sentence, not knowing what she’d been talking about on the other end of the line.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I need to go now. I promised Brian I’d get him something to eat.”

 

“Oh,” she laughed slightly, “and you let me ramble on. I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. Get him back on his feet, and I’ll clear his schedule for today and tomorrow. Give him …,” she giggled a little, “I’d say a kiss, but he’d probably turn away in disgust. Just tell him to get his ass back in shape. Bye, Justin.”

 

“Bye,” he replied, pressing the small red button at the bottom of the receiver, his mind still in overdrive. So what did it mean that Brian had wanted to celebrate his success with him after making partner, after saving not just his, but also Cynthia’s job? An outrageously expensive bottle of champagne? Brian’s taste was expensive, but he’d quite obviously bought it to share it with Justin. Justin, who, at the same time, had been basking in righteous self-pity in Vermont, feeling ill-treated and unloved. Had Brian maybe felt the same, coming back to an empty apartment, expecting his lover to be there, and instead finding – nothing? 

 

It was Brian’s fault as much as it was his, of course. Why couldn’t guy just talk to him from time to time, instead of tossing him some bits about his job which was paying for the loft and their life, and letting Justin believe that he couldn’t care less if they went to Vermont or not? If Justin was honest with himself he had to admit that the hustler at his birthday had been the final straw to push him into Ethan’s waiting arms. And as wrong as he had known it was, a big part of Justin’s mind had been convinced that Brian wouldn’t care one way or the other. He’d been so convinced that he was nothing for his lover than just a convenient fuck, and sometimes even an annoyance. 

 

Not once had he tried to understand what was going on in Brian’s mind. But now he did. And he clearly remembered joyful hazel eyes laughing at him, trying to surprise him with a hustler. As much as Justin had hated the idea of fucking another man on his birthday, a day he’d hoped to spend with his lover, special, romantic, he only now understood that Brian had done what he thought would be fun for Justin. Or the smile on Brian’s face when he’d announced that they would go to Vermont, not just for a weekend, but for an entire week. 

 

Fuck! 

 

They’d certainly done a fine job living with each other without living with each other at all. Could people share a loft, a bed, a shower, sometimes even a cup and be more apart? Yes, Justin knew it happened all the time, with straight couples. His parents had lived like that, longer than he’d wanted to admit. Daphne’s parents weren’t shining examples for communication either. Was that the reason Brian didn’t trust in relationships? Because he expected them to be for shit? Because he expected nothing at all?

 

Sighing, Justin finally walked back to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and thinking about Brian’s nausea yesterday decided to offer nothing but dry toast. As he was loading the tray he started to ponder Brian’s strange behavior. It wasn’t just the nausea, or the way Brian had jumped away from him in the shower just before. Or the fact that Detective Horwath has asked strange questions about a guy Brian had once fucked. But together it summed up to something Justin was too afraid to contemplate. Plus, it just couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t possible. 

 

Yet, in the shower Justin had seen the bruises on Brian’s arms, and the huge thing just above his ass. And there had been more, between his legs, and even around the area of his balls. As long as Justin knew Brian the only time the other man had sported bruises was when Craig had attacked him. Brian certainly liked to do some kinky stuff in bed, but he certainly wasn’t into the whole BDSM scene, at least not that Justin had noticed. But then, given the way they had lived these last months, maybe it didn’t say much. 

 

No, Justin picked up the platter and cup, then stopped, shaking his head. No, it simply didn’t add up. Brian wasn’t the type who went off on violence. But he simply couldn’t believe the whole story about someone beating Brian up. It just didn’t sound right. That left only one possibility what could’ve happened and as much as Justin hated thinking about it, it all fit. 

 

The bruises, the strange behavior, the nausea, the way Brian avoided to be touched. 

 

Justin swallowed – hard, and he felt his hands start to tremble. Quickly putting cup and platter down again, he swallowed again, nausea rising in his stomach. He could almost taste the acid climbing in his esophagus, while his gut was starting to curl itself into thousands of tiny little knots. 

 

It simply couldn’t be true. 

 

Not Brian. 

 

Never, ever Brian. Things like that happened to other, but not to the man in the bedroom. 

 

Still, his brain wasn’t forthcoming with any other explanation. 

 

Rape.

 

Brian had been raped. Had experienced forced sex. Violence. Had been violated. 

 

Had been the victim.

 

They’d never talked much about their feelings, Justin mused with not a little amount of sadness in his heart. Brian just wasn’t the guy to open himself up. But instinctively Justin knew that being a victim was the worst thing Brian could imagine. 

 

Rape.

 

God! Had the nausea been climbing before, it now hit him full force. Forgetting all about Brian’s food and coffee, or the man himself, Justin raced for the bathroom and sank to the floor, his stomach emptying its meager contents, then continued dry heaving. Trying to gasp for breath between the violent spasms, he felt tears fill his eyes. When his stomach finally subsided, a coughing fit held him on the floor, his mind repeating one word again and again.

 

Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. 

 

It was like a mantra, hitting through his brain, drumming in his ears. 

 

Brian had been raped. 

 

And then it hit him.

 

Brian had been raped. And a guy had been killed. A guy Brian quite obviously knew. 

 

Feeling nauseous once again, Justin pressed a hand in front of his mouth, his mind shying away from the mere possibility. No, no, it couldn’t be true. Never ever. Brian would never … No, he couldn’t think the words. His head simply refused to do it. 

 

But then he paused, thinking how he would feel in a situation like this. He hadn’t missed the way Brian’s lid had flickered, the way his fingers had clenched into fists when Detective Horwath had been questioning him. 

 

Could he kill? And more importantly, could Brian? But didn’t the psychologists say that every person was able to kill if they were pushed hard enough? Like, say, by being raped?


	6. Strangers In The Night

He saw him standing in the doorway, his huge shadow lingering, threatening, his voice slurred and almost unintelligible. But Brian was familiar with it. He was only five years old, but he knew. 

 

“I saw a chocolate handprint on the bathroom wall,” the voice boomed, bouncing off the ceiling and the walls, wrenching him from sleep. 

 

Brian sat up and rubbed chubby fists into sleepy hazel eyes. 

 

“Did you hear me?” the voice asked “Answer me when I talk to you!”

 

Rough hands grabbed him by the sholders, extricating him from the bedclothes, and shook him ruthlessly. “Answer me! Haven’t I told you, over and over again, not to put your filthy hands on the walls?”

 

Bewildered at first, but becoming frightened now, Brian began to shiver in the man’s hard, hurting grasp. His fingers dug painfully into his shoulder as the man shook him harder with each word. 

 

“I – I’m s-sorry …” he sniffed. “I f-forgot …”

 

“Sorry!” Shake. “Forgot?” Shake. “Do you think …” slap against the side of his face “… that gets you off again?” Slap to the other side of the face. “Well, think again, little Mister Kinney! This time …” Slap, slap. “… you get what’s coming to you – something to make you remember the next time you think you can soil the house with your filth.” Hard shake.

 

“A sound beating,” he promised, a note threading its way through the booming, slurred words, “that’s what you deserve. And remember, this is for your own good, so you grow up and become a man. A real man.”

 

He was sitting on the bed now, turning Brian over on his knees. Brian could smell the booze and the foul breath. It was a smell he’d already gotten used to, and it seemed to fit the violent, cruel nature of the man it belonged to. 

 

Crying now, he glanced up and spotted a tall, dark silhouette in the doorway. “M-mommy! P-please ..” He reached toward the figure, crying harder when he saw the woman turn silently and disappear. 

 

“This one you will remember,” his father promised with relish, as he pulled down Brian’s pants, exposing his bare ass. “I promise, this one you won’t forget.”

 

*****

 

Brian woke, still sweating and breathless. The first thing he noted when his eyes popped open was that Justin hadn’t woken him up, in fact, his lover was nowhere to be seen. A part of him was glad to be alone at last, but another part was frowning deeply at the blond’s absence. And then his frown deepened because of it. Why the fuck did he give a shit about what Justin did? So what if he fucked someone else? Why should he care in the first place. It wasn’t as if they were monogamous. Brian almost laughed at the mere thought. 

 

A quick glance at the clock told him it was already past five. Closing his eyes again, he suppressed a moan. God, he felt tired. He couldn’t remember ever having felt so tired in his whole life. Which said a lot regarding the fact how fucked his life was most of the time. And still, he’d survived, had lived through it, and come out a winner in the end. 

 

Or so he’d thought.

 

Shit! He’d known from the start that fucking Leyton had been a mistake. Especially since the guy was a client of the agency. He should’ve learned from the whole affair with Kip Thomas that mixing business with fucking wasn’t a good idea. But of course Brian fucking Kinney was so sure of himself he’d once again broken his self-made rules. And because of his phenomenal luck the result was a disaster. The guy was dead and Brian didn’t know anything at all. 

 

The only thing he clearly remembered was the guy who’d bound and fucked him – against his will. And the apartment. All too clearly he remembered the apartment. An apartment he’d seen before. 

 

Almost violently forcing himself to shove the memory into the darkest corner of his mind, Brian crawled out of bed and reached for his robe, then walked down the stairs only to find Justin curled up on the couch. The blond was obviously asleep, but Brian could still see traces of tears on his lover’s face. What the fuck … ?

 

Acting without thinking, Brian moved to Justin’s side, and crouched down beside his sleeping form. “Justin?”

 

“Mmmblllmmmll.”

 

He almost chuckled at the unintelligible noises from the well shaped mouth. “Justin, hey, wake up.”

 

Blue eyes blinked sleepily up at him, “B-brian?”

 

He snorted at the surprise in Justin’s voice. His brows rose involuntarily, “Expecting someone else?”

 

“N-no,” the blond stuttered. “Wha- What time is is?”

 

“Around six, I guess,” he replied, standing up and walking into the kitchen in search of something to eat. Oddly his appetite had returned and he didn’t feel anymore as if he was going to puke his guts out any moment.

 

He stopped at the counter, a sudden memory hitting him with unstoppable force …

 

A sudden crash of thunder jerked Brian’s attention to his present surroundings. His glance darted upward toward the window. Black clouds raced across the sky, with terrible, twisted forks of lightning dancing across their paths. Wind slashed at the windows, as if threatening to burst them. Brian stared into the gathering darkness. His breath lodged in his throat. He wanted to run, but his feet and arms were bound. He wanted to blink, but the muscles of his face remained rigidly frozen in place. 

 

A pale figure with flowing white robes floated slowly toward him. The violence around him faded abruptly into oblivion as Brian’s eyes widened and his mouth grew slack. Into his mind rose the image of his long-dead father. He’d come for him! Just as he used to come for him when he was still a child …

 

“Brian? Are you okay?”

 

Gasping at the sudden interruption, Brian jerked a little, and without turning, he replied, “I’m fine.” Wasn’t that what everyone expected from his anyway. He was always fine. Always dandy. 

 

“No, you’re not.” Or maybe Justin wasn’t as gullible as the others. 

 

Slowly he turned, finding the boy watching him intently. “What … are you talking about?”

 

His eyes wide, and very blue, but never wavering, Justin said gently, “I know what happened.”

 

Brian blinked, hoping this was just another fucked up dream. “What … do you know?” 

 

“I know you were raped,” his lover stated gently, the words barely above a whisper. “And to answer your next question … I figured it out all by myself. It just added up. Your odd behavior, the way you reacted when Horvath came around-“

 

“What do you mean, the way I acted?” Brian asked, feeling his gut clench once again, his former appetite vanishing into thin air. 

 

Justin shrugged, and walked behind the counter to start the coffee machine. “You were nervous for one. Then the bruises. You wouldn’t touch me. It was all so strange, and then …,” he swallowed hard, “I suddenly knew.” Eyes filled with sudden tears turned towards him, “It’s true, isn’t it?” 

 

He couldn’t deal with this. Couldn’t look into those baby blues and just say yes. He could barely accept it in front of himself, but to Justin? No fucking way. “I’m fine,” he repeated his earlier words, evading the question neatly.

 

“I know it is.” Or maybe not. Justin could be like a bulldog sometimes. He’s been acting odd lately, not just because of the fiddler, but Brian could still remember the way the blond had pursued him, stalked him even, at the beginning of their – whatever it was they had. “And you’re not fine,” Justin went on, turning away from the coffee machine and finally facing him squarely. “Or is puking your guts out and waking up in a sweat fine?”

 

The question dared him to disagree, and even if he wanted, Brian couldn’t, as much as he hated to admit it. Brian Kinney didn’t do suffering. He held his head above water at all time, he always came out the winner. 

 

Not this time, though. 

 

His inner self was in a turmoil he’d never experienced before. At least not for a long time. Not since he, Clair and their parents had gone to the zoo. Brian had been only four, and for a few hours it was almost as if his family was a normal one. 

 

The day had been warm and sunny, almost too warm for the middle of October, and Brian was looking forward to the outing with excitement. He’d never been to the zoo, and he wanted to see if the animals really lived outside of cages just like people, the way they did in his picture books. His parents were both in good spirits, were smiling and laughing and that made him feel good, too, even though he already knew his father’s moods were a tricky thing, and could change in an instant. He’d been extra careful to see that he did nothing to upset him. He’d been careful not to spill anything in the new car, to keep his feet off the seats, and not to chatter during the long ride. 

 

But he was so excited, it was hard to sit still. His mother and father had even been talking about getting a dog. They wanted it for security, but Brian remembered a nice dog he’d once seen in a park, a sheepdog he’d wandered off to pet a while back and envisioned something along those lines. Of course they never got a dog, and when they’d come home from the zoo, his father had drunk himself into a rage and Brian had ended up with an aching backside and had never wanted to go back to the zoo again. He’d learned that day that nothing came without a price, and you always had to pay, no matter what. 

 

“Brian?” Again, he blinked, feeling annoyed, but not sure if it was because of Justin’s probing eyes or because of the damned flashbacks he kept having. “Can you tell me what happened?”

 

What happened? I was fucked against my will. No big deal. Happens every day, no reason to lose sweat over it. “Stay out of this, Justin,” he warned, glaring at the blond. “Why don’t you go and see your little fiddler? I’m sure he always finds the right words. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

 

Justin flinched and Brian couldn’t help the perverse satisfaction he felt at knowing he’d found the boy’s weak spot. “Ethan and I … we’re not seeing each other anymore.”

 

“Oh?” Playing cool, glad he’d distracted his lover for a while, Brian raised his brows, “Don’t tell me your guilty conscience is acting up? I told you before, it’s bullshit. We have no locks on the doors.”

 

“You need me,” Justin stated quietly.

 

He laughed at that. This was a joke. It had to be one. “I don’t need you,” he snarled, and walking around the counter as he opened the fridge and reached for some juice. Orange – oh, well, it had to do. Pouring himself a glass, he snorted, “I don’t need anyone.”

 

“Everybody needs someone,” Justin told him, his voice still quiet and so reasonable, Brian wanted to smack him. “You like to give the lone wolf act, but I’m not buying it. You’re not invulnerable.”

 

“You’re right,” Brian admitted, wondering why he did bother at all. He should just turn away or toss the boy out. Instead he kept talking, “That’s why I prefer to be on my own. No complications, no pain.” Shit! Had he really just said that. Gulping down the juice he gave Justin a dismissive wave, “Forget I said that. It’s bullshit.” 

 

“No,” the blond replied, grabbing his arm and holding it in a strong grip, making it impossible for Brian to walk away from him without using bodily force. “You needed Michael, and don’t even try to deny it. I saw the way you were when you pushed him to David. And now …,” his voice faltered for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “Now,” the voice was strong again, and was holding traces of wonder, “you need me. I was just to blind to see it. Too hurt. But now I know.”

 

“It’s-“

 

But Justin wouldn’t let him deny it. “It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.” The blond pulled at his arm, and Brian found himself face to face with his lover, the blue eyes intense and so grown-up it made him shudder for a moment. Had he done that? Had he taken away the youth he used to see in them? And why had he missed the change? “I love you, Brian. And I’m with you in this. I’m not going to turn away. You need to trust someone with this, why not me?”

 

It was like drowning in those blue eyes, and for a moment Brian was mesmerized by the almost hypnotic effect they had on him. Could he really trust Justin? A boy who was only 19 years old, who had grown up knowing nothing about the things Brian had been through as a boy. His father and mother had loved and cherished him, at least until he’d outed himself as gay and Craig hadn’t been able to face it. But this was also the boy who’d been bashed at his prom, and who’d struggled to survive and draw again. Despite his upbringing, Justin was no stranger to pain and disappointment. 

 

“I …,” Brian stared at the blond, the boy, his lover, the first person he’d let inside his inner sanctum, a place not even Mikey had been allowed to enter. He’d sworn himself never to let anyone close, never to share his space, never to care for anyone that way, but somehow – and he would never forget Debbie’s words – this kid had found a way through the wires he’d tried to surround himself with. And Justin was looking at him now, his gaze open, hiding nothing, trusting, offering support. He didn’t know why and how, but Brian just couldn’t turn away from it. 

 

“I … I don’t really remember what happened,” he said finally, haltingly, and realized Justin was holding his breath, his eyes wide with shock, probably stunned that the older man was really going to trust him. Brian shook his head, and placed the empty glass on the surface before him. “It’s bits and pieces,” he said, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. 

 

The grip on his arm loosened, turning gentle and soothing. “It’s called repressing,” Justin’s fingers were moving in circles on his arm. “It’s common in cases like this. The shrink I talked to … you know about the memory lapses I have regarding the bashing … He said that it’s normal. Nobody knows if I really lost the memory or if my mind just can’t deal with it, because it’s too painful.”

 

“I remember …,” a headache was forming between his eyes but Brian ignored it, “being bound and … his voice. But I … forgot about his face, it’s as if he’s got none.”

 

“What about the murder?” 

 

Brian’s head came up with a snap, and he felt his heart start to hammer in his chest, “What about it?”

 

“You knew Leyton, you said so to Horwath.”

 

“I did.” There was no way to deny it. Besides, there was no need either. “He was a client of the agency. I was handling his account and-“ he shrugged.

 

“You fucked him,” Justin stated flatly. 

 

Instantly defensive, Brian tensed, “So what?”

 

Justin took a deep breath, “Nothing. I’m not saying anything. Just … I dunno … trying to understand I guess. And you never saw him again?”

 

“Or course I saw him again.” Brian was slowly getting impatient with this. “I just told you he was a client. We fucked once. He was hot.” His headache intensified, the steady pounding making him nauseous. There was this memory, something, and every time he tried to reach for it, it seemed to slip away. He shook his head, “The room … there was this room. I remembered having been there before.” 

 

Momentarily confused, Justin’s eyes narrowed, “What room? Oh!” His gaze cleared, “You mean the room where …” He trailed off. “What about it?” 

 

Brian shook his head impatiently, “This leads nowhere.” He tried to move away, but Justin held him in place.

 

“No! You can’t just give up after the first try. So, you remember the room. What room? What did it look like?”

 

For a split second tempted to used bodily force, Brian took a deep breath instead. Justin once again proved to be the bulldog Brian had always known he was. No way he would let it go now. “It … was huge. Dark. With strange, Asiatic lamps. I … I saw it before. It looked like …” He stopped, swallowing a new bout of nausea, and forced himself to go on. “Leyton had a room like that. Fuck! I wish I could remember.”

 

“You … you mean you were in Leyton’s room when you were …,” Justin gulped, “raped?”

 

“I can’t say it for sure, but maybe.”

 

“And it was the night-“ Justin’s voice broke and he gulped again. 

 

“Of the murder? Yeah,” Brian admitted, his stomach rolling. God, his mother would have a field day with this. If she knew he was gay, she’d tell him that he only got what he earned because of his disgusting life-style. He could just hear her. And Jack … Jack would probably laugh, the miserable bastard. 

 

“Then we have to go there,” Justin said.

 

Brian frowned, “Where?”

 

“To Leyton’s house. We have to go inside, and you have to look. Make sure if you’re right.” Justin was suddenly talking a mile a minute, and was already on his way to the bedroom, when Brian stopped him.

 

“Wait a moment, Dr. Watson.”

 

The boy stopped and turned, “What? We have to hurry.”

 

God, he was such a kid sometimes, “Have you even considered that the house is a crime scene? We can’t just walk in there as if nothing has happened. And then there’s the little detail that Horwath has been questioning me.”

 

“Another reason you have to go there. You have to remember so you can tell him that you didn’t kill Leyton,” Justin argued, turning to the stairs and ascending them.

 

“But …” Brian trailed off, and watching Justin disappear in the bedroom, the meaning of the words hit him. Justin didn’t doubt for a second that he was innocent, that whatever had happened, had nothing to do with Leyton’s death. He suddenly had to blink against the moisture in his eyes. Fuck! It couldn’t be tears, could it? But he couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through his gut, the expanding he felt around his heart. Nobody had ever believed in him, not ever. Not even Deb or Mikey. Only Justin.

 

Justin. 

 

He was a miracle, this fair boy with the blue eyes and the heart as big as they came. Brian sighed. Unfortunately he was not the man this boy deserved. His heart once again heavy, he followed his lover, wishing he could be someone he wasn’t, wishing he could be worthy of Justin’s love.


	7. Strangers In The Night

Justin felt himself shiver in the faint breeze of the night, and he pulled his coat more tightly around himself. A quick glance to his left side assured him that Brian was still there, still by his side. The older man hadn’t said a word since they’d left the loft, but Justin had convinced himself not to worry about it. It had to be quite new for his lover to open up the way he had this afternoon, and Justin couldn’t even guess the pain this might have caused. But he also knew that it was the first step, the first real step, they’d taken together and a part of him wanted to shout with joy. For the first time since the bashing, Justin didn’t feel like a convenient fuck anymore, but like a partner, someone Brian relied and counted on. 

 

“It is fucking freezing out here,” Brian muttered. “Shit, it’s not even winter.”

 

“Maybe we should move to Miami,” Justin suggested, not looking at the other man. He was too busy trying to find a way through all the police tape without destroying it. A part of him was almost excited by what they were doing. It was as if they were detectives. Or if they were really Rage and JT.

 

“Miami?” 

 

“You know, it’s warm. And the White Party. I heard it’s a blast.” Brian had never talked about it, never said a word, and Justin hadn’t asked. He hadn’t been interested to hear about the great fucks Brian undoubtedly had encountered there.

 

“Believe me, it’s not as exciting as you think.”

 

“What?” Justin asked, not able to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, “Thousands of horny queers in white are not your taste?”

 

Brian shrugged, huddling deeper into his jacket. “It’s overrated.”

 

Justin almost chuckled. He didn’t quite understand why Brian was downplaying it, but right now the older man sounded downright grumpy. “No Ben-alike around, huh?”

 

“Are we here because of a murder, or because you chose this exact moment to annoy the fuck out of me?”

 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make conversation,” Justin defended himself, wondering why in hell he never thought about bringing a flashlight. 

 

“Fuck it.”

 

The blond sighed. Brian wasn’t in a very chatty mood. Not that he ever was, but tonight it seemed even worse. It was not really surprising. After all, they were trying to get into the place where Brian might have been… Justin couldn’t even think the word, and he didn’t want to imagine what it had been like. The idea of Brian being bound and helpless, having another man do things to him he did not want, was making him queasy. He swallowed the rising bile and studied the lock of the door. 

 

He heard an impatient sigh behind him and turned, “What?”

 

Brian rolled his eyes, “Don’t you kids learn anything these days?” Out of nowhere Justin saw a thin, lengthy object appear in Brian’s hand, and only a moment later, the older man was down on one knee, fumbling it inside the lock. 

 

The blond blinked, “Ah … you know how to open this?” He wasn’t able to hide the awe he felt. Not that it should have surprised him. With Brian’s past history – of which he knew nearly nothing – it had to be expected, right? Brian gave him a quick look, then gave the slightest shake of his head. A second later, Justin heard a click and the door opened quietly. “Wow,” he whispered, still in awe, “that was fast.”

 

“I’m a little rusty. But it was okay.”

 

“Okay?” Justin was staring at his lover. “You call that okay? That … that was-“

 

“Amazing, I know,” Brian stated dryly. “Can we get on with whatever you think we are doing?”

 

“You know, if you ever lose your job,” the blond said conversationally as they slowly entered the house. “Did you ever consider a career as a burglar.”

 

“Too much excitement,” Brian replied, following his young lover inside. His stomach was doing wild flip-flops, and his heart was beating a mile a minute. Shit. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be reminded of what might have happened inside of this house. Stopping in the hallway, he was once again assaulted by the image of himself trying to break the bonds holding him to the bed, the breath of another man, the voice, the eyes. And those lamps … those …

 

“Brian?” 

 

He shook himself out of it, and nodded towards the stairs, “You think we should start upstairs?”

 

Justin shrugged, “Dunno. Haven’t been here before. Do you remember anything?”

 

Did he? Brian wondered. Did he even want to? The answer was a definite no, but unfortunately Leyton had been murdered and that changed things. 

 

Justin studied his lover, concerned to see Brian’s face pale, the lips almost blue in the darkness. “Where did you … I mean, when you fucked him, where was it?”

 

“In the toilet at the agency,” Brian replied absentmindedly, his eyes frozen on the staircase. 

 

“Wow … that must have been … great, I guess.” He knew it sounded stupid, but Justin couldn’t help saying it. What a blast. Fucking someone in a toilet stall. Okay, so he had done it, too, and enjoyed it, but didn’t you grow out of things like that? Annoyed with his own train of thoughts – fun or no fun really wasn’t the problem right now – Justin craned his neck to look inside of what looked like the living room. “Did the guy have money?”

 

“A lot,” Brian confirmed. “He inherited most of it. But he was a good lawyer as well.”

 

The blond nodded, slowly walking towards the stairs. “What kind of ad campaign was this about”

 

“Gay rights. He was very much into that kind of stuff, even though he wasn’t really behind it. It helped his goals though.”

 

It wasn’t surprising. Justin had seen Leyton on television, giving political statements and stuff. He was a well-known gay-rights activist. Then Brian’s words sunk in, “What do you mean, he wasn’t really behind it?”

 

The older man shrugged, trying to ignore the trembling that had started deep inside of him the moment they’d stepped inside the house. “He was a politician at heart. He didn’t believe in anything, but himself. His career. The whole gay-rights stuff was nothing but scam.”

 

“You mean … it was all fake?” 

 

“Don’t look so surprised, Sunshine. You know how it goes. Screw or get screwed. Clarence opted for screwing.” His tongue wandering in his cheek, Brian frowned, “And I can’t really blame him for it.”

 

“Was he even gay?” Justin knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help it. People like Leyton made him angry. 

 

Brian had to laugh at that, “He was gay alright. Believe me, he was. But he probably would’ve screwed a woman if it served his purpose.” 

 

“Ewww,” the blond wrinkled his nose. His one experience with Daphne had been enough for life. Hadn’t he known it before, that one time made it perfectly clear that he just wasn’t made for pussy. “Okay, so now I feel better about him being dead. But it still doesn’t help you.”

 

Brian was still rooted on the spot, still staring at the stairs. “I’m not sure I can go up there,” he muttered.

 

It took a moment for the words to sink in, before Justin realized that Brian had just admitted a weakness to him. Holy Shit! Cautiously, he moved the his lover’s side. “You could … I mean, I just …,” he took a deep breath, cursing himself for making a mess out of this. “You’re not alone, Brian,” he said finally, hoping the older man wouldn’t get it the wrong way, wouldn’t push him away this time.

 

Brian’s eyes flickered to his face, then back to the stairs, “Okay,” he exhaled a long breath, “let’s go.”

 

*****

 

For a moment Carl Horwath wasn’t sure he should be happy or not that Debbie was willing to open the door for him. A part of him had anticipated seeing the sassy woman again. The other part, however, resented the hell out of the fact that he had to question her officially. 

 

“Well, well,” she drawled, stepping back from the door. “What brings you here?” Leaving the door open for him to enter, she walked back to her kitchen and continued peeling potatoes, something she’d obviously done for a while, judging from full bowel he could see on the counter. 

 

“I’m here on official business,” he announced, allowing himself a moment to simply enjoy looking at her. She wasn’t a classical beauty or anything, but there was a vibrant energy that always seemed to be humming around her, he felt drawn to her like a bear to the honey. Feeling a little hot at the images those thoughts brought to his mind, he cleared his throat, “It’s about Brian Kinney.”

 

Even though she didn’t look up from her work, Carl could still see the tension that instantly seized her body. “I told you, there is nothing I can tell you.”

 

“I understand how you feel-“

 

“You,” she whirled around, her eyes furious. He wanted to kiss her there and then, but knew it was out of the question. For one, she would probably slap him. Holding up her peeling knife, she went on, “have no idea how I feel. I’ve known Brian since he was fourteen years old. His father was a shit who liked to beat him up and his mother is the coldest bitch I’ve ever met. He came to my house when he couldn’t stand it at home. We might not be related, but for all I care he is my son. Did you get that, *Mr.* Horwath?”

 

“Debbie-“

 

But she cut him off again, “Don’t you Debbie me. I’m Mrs. Novotny. We’re not friends. We’re not even acquaintances. To me, it seems, I never knew you at all.”

 

Had she any idea how that hurt? If she’d rammed her fist into his gut it couldn’t have been worse. He had to inhale sharply at the words. But damn, his first duty was to the police, it had been drilled into him over 30 years, and he’d always done things after the book. Okay, so he’d shut an eye here and there, but unlike some of his colleagues he’d never done anything illegal. Why couldn’t Debbie understand that it was his duty, and that she should be happy it was him doing the investigation and not some other cop, who might have been less sensitive about people she loved.

 

“Mrs. Novotny,” he said finally through gritted teeth, the name on his tongue tasting like acid. “I know you might not understand this, but believe me, I’d like nothing better than just turn my back on the whole damned thing.”

 

She tossed her head and returned to her potatoes. “Then do it.”

 

“And leave the whole investigation to some idiot who’s going to fuck it up, or worse to those who don’t care if they arrest the wrong fag for this?”

 

“Don’t,” she warned, whirling back to him, her expressive eyes blazing, “insult gay people just because you’re a fucking homophobe.”

 

“Huh?” He couldn’t quite follow her. What the hell had he said now?

 

“Fag!” she screamed, her hands flailing wildly through the air. “They’re gay men. Not fags. Or whatever you oh so straight guys like to call them.”

 

“They use the term themselves,” Carl defended himself. He was certain he’d heard the word before from the mouth of a gay man.

 

“Yeah,” Debbie agreed on a snort. “*They* do. But that doesn’t give you the right to use it in that …,” she gestured at him with the knife, and for a moment Carl wondered if she was tempted to use it, too. “That … way.”

 

“What way?” 

 

“You know what I’m talking about,” she replied, once again turning her back on him. “You really expect me to be glad you’re investigating this?” She huffed, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “You want me to be happy about having people I care about being questioned and treated as if they’ve committed a crime?” 

 

“A man died,” he reminded her. “He was gay, too. Don’t you care to find out who did it?”

 

“I do,” she told him, looking at him. “But not if you go after Brian. Brian Kinney might be a lot of things, but he’s no murderer. He isn’t even a violent person. I never saw him raising so much as a hand at another human being. And I don’t appreciate being questioned when someone pretends to be taking me out to dinner.”

 

Ah. Suddenly Carl understood as he watched her ramrod straight back. She was hurt. And damn, she had a right to be. He’d been an insensitive idiot. He should be quartered for what he’d done. But the policeman in him wasn’t easy to overcome, even for one night. Shit. “Debbie – I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” 

 

“For bringing the whole thing up at dinner. It was … unforgivable.” God, he hated to grovel, but she had a right to see him that way. 

 

“Damn right it was,” she replied, but had turned to look at him again. “It’s not the way into a lady’s heart, you know.”

 

“I know,” he sighed, and risked a slight smile. “You’re a great lady, Debbie Novotny.”

 

“Don’t try to sugarcoat this. You’re not out of shit yet,” she warned, her knife once again pointing at him. 

 

He held up both hands. “I understand. And I realize this is hard for you. But it’s what I do. I’m a police officer.”

 

“I know,” this time she sighed. “It’s the worst thing I could fall for.”

 

He almost did a double take. “Fall for?” 

 

She shrugged, blushing a little. “So?”

 

“I’m glad,” he smiled and walked over to her. “And I promise to handle this as careful as possible. But I need to talk about Brian Kinney.”

 

“Why?” she asked, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself for the answer.

 

“Because,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to do it, “we found a condom containing his sperm at the victim’s house.”


	8. Strangers In The Night

Brian had a feeling it was an eternity until they’d climbed the stairs. Then, again, he felt as if it were mere seconds. His stomach was churning, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and only Justin’s warm hand surrounding his cold one seemed to keep him anchored right now. More than once he wanted to simply bolt and run, but he knew it was no option. This was something he couldn’t just make go away with drugs, booze and sex. This time it was real. Hadn’t he said to Justin that you either fucked or got fucked? He had no intention of getting fucked over again any time soon. 

 

Unbidden images forced themselves back into his head. Hands grabbing him, binding him, holding him. Breath on his skin he didn’t want, words he hated to remember. 

 

//You love it, man. Don’t tell me you don’t love it.//

 

Bile rose in his throat and he bit his lip to force down threatening nausea. 

 

//Don’t look at me like that. You enjoyed every moment of it, you asshole.//

 

Hands groping at him, a finger probing at his asshole, entering him roughly, not waiting for an invitation. 

 

“Brian?”

 

He swallowed hard and blinked, then slowly turned his head to look at Justin, who’s face was barely visible in the dark. “Y-you,” he cleared his throat, “should’ve brought a flashlight. You’d be so fucked if you ever tried to become a thief.” That was good, make fun. Only he wasn’t feeling very funny right now. Rubbing his nape with his free hand, he exhaled roughly. “God, I hate being here.”

 

“I know,” came the soft reply, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of Brian’s hand. “But I so don’t want to restrict our fucking to visitation days in jail.”

 

He had to chuckle. Leave it to Justin to find the right kind of humor even in a situation like this. “You’re being optimistic. I hardly think they’ll be giving us conjugal visits.”

 

Justin did a mock double-take. “Did you just say conjugal?”

 

“Asshole.”

 

The blond laughed, but at the same time squeezed Brian’s hand again. It was lying cold and lifeless in his, and Justin had a hard time keeping up the lightness in his voice. But he felt instinctively that Brian was close to bolting and he couldn’t let that happen. Not when they had come this far. “Which door?” he asked.

 

Brian hesitated, the hand in Justin’s starting to tremble ever so slightly. “I … I don’t know.” Brian voice wavered, “I … c-can’t remember.”

 

//I promise you, you’ll never forget me.//

 

And he never would. He would never forget the violation he’d felt at being treated like a piece of meat, being helpless and completely at the mercy of some stranger he couldn’t fucking remember. The only one he remembered was the one he’d gone with. Then everything went black. He’d woken up again in some barely lit room with strange lamps, glowing dangerously in the darkness. Lamps he’d seen in pictures of Leyton’s home. Then he’d seen them when he’d been at Leyton’s house for a meeting. The attorney had wanted to fuck again. Brian had refused.

 

Fuck!

 

“BRIAN!” His head snapped around and he stared at Justin, his eyes wide, his breath coming in gasps. “Don’t do this,” the blond said, his own voice quivering a little. 

 

“I’m okay,” he assured his young lover. “I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Justin said. He licked his lips. “Maybe … maybe we really should come back another time.” He was suddenly afraid, Brian would pass out on him. He’d never seen the older man like this. 

 

“No,” Brian insisted. “We’re staying. I need … to know.” And he did. He had to know if this was the room his remembered. “I … remember,” he said while they were moving closer to the door, “having a drink … then nothing. I … woke up on a bed …” He trailed off, not wanting to give the details to Justin. the kid had to live with enough nightmares as it was. 

 

They stopped right in front of the first door at the right, and Justin reached out, but Brian stopped him by reaching for the blond’s outstretched arm. “No. I’ll do it. Just in case.” He didn’t elaborate, but hoped Justin would understand that this was about fingerprints. He didn’t want Justin to get more involved in the whole mess than he was already. 

 

Slowly he touched the handle and pressed down. The door opened without noise, and revealed something that had to be used as a guest room. Finding everything in it unfamiliar, Brian closed it again and they moved on. After finding nothing behind two other doors, they were finally in front of a wooden door on the left side of the staircase. Again Brian opened it – and froze. 

 

A huge king-sized bed stood in the middle, each corner emphasized by thick bedposts. Even though the room was only dimly lit through a street lamp that was shining through the window, Brian didn’t need a second glance to recognize the bed. Especially the wood carvings on the bedposts. The cravings had been done for Leyton and showed several erotic homoerotic scenes taken from antique books. Brian would never forget them. 

 

His eyes flashed to the lamps that were standing on each of the two side tables and he felt his gut clench once again. These were the lamps he remembered. The lamps he’d seen while –

 

//Man, you’re tight. I suppose you don’t do this often.//

 

Involuntarily he felt a burn in his ass, remembering the unwelcome intrusion. The guy’s cock had been huge and painful. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with preparing, had just shoved his dick up Brian’s ass. He should probably be glad the guy had bothered to use a condom and lube. 

 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” 

 

Brian looked at Justin and found the blond paler than usual, his eyes, huge and almost black in the darkness, watching Brian intently. He nodded. “Yeah. I … think … so. It’s … familiar. The lamps…” he took a deep breath. “I remember them. I was looking at one of them and the,” he pointed at the bedposts, “carvings. I was trying to … keep my mind off what was happening.”

 

He hated when Justin’s eyes started to glitter, and he saw a tear tickle down a pale cheek. “Brian.” 

 

“Don’t,” he warned roughly, turning away from Justin. And the pity he was sure he’d seen in those eyes. “Don’t you dare doing this now. I don’t want your pity.”

 

“I … love you. This isn’t about pity,” came the tearful reply. “It hurts to think what this man did to you. I wish I had killed him. I wish I still could.”

 

Brian almost shivered at the barely suppressed rage in Justin’s voice. “I … didn’t,” he began, then stopped. Or had he? Could he have killed Leyton? Was it Leyton who had raped him? The guy he’d picked up that night, or rather who had picked him up behind Babylon hadn’t looked as if he could be connected to a bastard like Leyton. But then you never really knew people. Brian had learned that early in his life, a lesson he’d never forgotten. 

 

“You didn’t, what?” 

 

God, he couldn’t look at the kid, the boy who told him he loved him. Did he deserve that love? He certainly wasn’t a prize. Love was such a foreign concept to him, he had no idea what it really was. Michael loved him, and he loved him back, but it was different. Their love was innocent. The love of friends. And Gus? Yes, he loved Gus, but Gus was just a baby. And Linds. Another friend. 

 

Justin was different. He was the first person who had ever shared Brian’s life, who’d been allowed to intrude his privacy. Justin slept by his side, Justin shared his meals, and he’d come to know Brian so well in not even two years … Brian should be running scared. Only, he was not. Instead, he found himself craving for more, wanted to intensify the closeness, not loose it. 

 

When he’d found about Ethan Gold, Brian hadn’t expected to be shocked the way he was. So Justin was seeing some guy. So what? Why would it concern him? Their relationship was open, they didn’t have locks and the rules were worth shit anyway. But it had shocked him, damn it. Not because he saw Ethan Gold as a threat. No, he wasn’t. Not really. This would never last. But what disturbed Brian was the symptom Ethan stood for. When had he and Justin started to drift apart? When had Justin stopped reading him? He was seeing Ethan, not because he loved the other artist, but because Ethan gave him something he felt Brian didn’t. 

 

Was it love?

 

And if he was incapable of giving love, did he have a right to expect Justin to stay? 

 

And yet, Justin was by his side now, offering comfort and support, offering love. Did it mean that if someone like Justin could love him that he was lovable after all? 

 

Feeling his head starting to pound, Brian rubbed the aching spot with two fingers. “I don’t know,” he whispered, wishing things were clearer. 

 

“Don’t know – what?” Justin asked, and Brian felt the blond moving closer, then Justin’s hand was on his arm, warm, supporting. “If you killed him or not? Brian, you would never kill someone?”

 

“Are you sure?” Brian asked, wondering if it was true. No, he wasn’t a violent person, but from the bits and pieces he remembered he still felt violated. Wasn’t that enough to push a person over the edge and make them do things they’d never do under different circumstances? 

 

Trying not to think about it, Brian stepped into the room.

 

*****

 

“A … c-condom?” Shocked, Debbie stared at Carl. 

 

“Yes,” Carl nodded sadly. 

 

Debbie shook her head, then sat down, not sure if her legs would keep her upright any longer. She felt as if nothing was real. A condom with Brian’s – “How?” she asked, frowning hard.

 

“Huh?” 

 

“I mean,” she looked at him intently, “how can you know it’s Brian’s.”

 

She saw him hesitate and wondered what he was trying to hide. Then he took a deep breath and sat down next to her. “Someone faxed us the results of blood tests Kinney had made a few years ago. A DNA test was included. It was easy.”

 

DNA tests? It had to be connected to Gus. But who would have access to something like that? Her frown deepened, “And why would someone do such a thing? I mean, that practically screams set-up for me.” It was so obvious it was almost laughable. Why couldn’t Carl see it? Not that she was surprised. After the whole mess with Jason Kemp she knew how things went with the police if the victim was gay. It could only get worse if the killer was supposed to be too. 

 

Carl sighed, and for the first time Debbie saw the strain showing in the lines around his eyes. He was tired, and her heart softened. Even though he had probably worked since morning, he’d still come to her to deliver the news personally. “The document was sent from a public fax machine and by someone who calls himself a ‘concerned citizen’.” He shook his head, “I know it stinks, but the fact remains that there’s the condom we found at Leyton’s house. And Stockwell is adamant about bringing in Kinney for questioning tomorrow.”

 

“Oh no!” Sure, Brian could take care of himself, but hadn’t Michael told her that he was sick? “He’s not well,” she said, hoping against hope that it would make a difference. 

 

“Sick?” Something flickered through Carl’s eyes she didn’t like. 

 

“Jesus, Carl! He is sick. He has the flu or something. We all have it from time to time.”

 

“He didn’t seem sick to me when I saw him,” the detective replied. Debbie hated the speculative gleam in his eyes. God, why had she ever started to get involved with a policeman. Could she claim temporary insanity? She wondered. 

 

“Don’t go all cop on me,” she warned, standing up and stepping back from the table. “Brian’s a lot of things, but he’s no killer. He couldn’t hurt a fly.” Of course it was a downright lie. She could still remember the day some guy had dunked Michael’s head into the toilet. Brian had been the new guy at school and Michael’s new crush. Her son had never been good at hiding his feelings and Mario Dante must have seen him watching Brian. 

 

Two days later Mario Dante had been found behind the gym. He’d been bleeding from a cut on his forehead and his nose had been broken. He’d never told anyone who had been responsible, but Brian’s bruised knuckles had spoken volumes. Debbie hadn’t commented on it, and even though she still hadn’t been sure about the new Irish boy, she was silently glad that Michael had finally found a true friend. 

 

“I didn’t say that.” Carl sighed deeply, his eyes looking up at her with warmth and compassion. “But there’s evidence that links him to the victim. I can’t just forget about it.”

 

“So you’re going to arrest him?” she asked bitterly. She would never forget how the police had treated Vic almost a year ago. Granted, Brian didn’t have AIDS but she still felt responsible for him and the thought of having one of her ‘kids’ in jail hat her guts knotted tight. 

 

He sighed again and stood as well. “I never said anything about arresting him. We’re going to bring him down for questioning.”

 

Debbie compressed her lips, bile rising in her throat. She swallowed. “I know all about questioning,” she tossed at him. “He’s a young, gay male. Linked to a gay crime. Do you know what they’re gonna do to him?”

 

“He’s not going to jail,” he argued. 

 

“Maybe not, but he’ll still be treated like a criminal. I’ve seen the police work, Carl. I know what a gay man is to them.”

 

“I’m with the police, too,” he replied and she heard the hurt in his voice. A part of her wanted to care, but a bigger part couldn’t. This was hitting too close to home. Carl was a nice man and maybe, in another universe, they might have had a chance. She genuinely liked him, liked his humor, liked his compassion. But Brian, with all his faults, was family. And family came first. She was Italian after all.

 

“I know,” she said slowly, looking at him squarely. “I’m very grateful that you came to tell me about Brian. But regarding the circumstances I don’t think it’ll be wise if we saw each other again.”

 

He stepped forward, shock evident in his eyes. “Debbie-“

 

“No,” she held up a hand and retreated toward the counter. “This isn’t debatable. I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry, Carl.”

 

“This doesn’t have to come between us.”

 

She laughed, a bitter, tearful sound and sniffed. “But don’t you see, Carl,” she said, “it already has.”

 

*****

 

Justin felt Brian’s hand tremble in his as they stepped into the darkened room. For a moment Justin was reminded of one of the vampire novels he’d read a few years ago. There was an eerie silence in the room, the shadows playing on the wall giving everything a mysterious touch. He expected Dracula to step out behind a hidden wall any second now. Involuntarily he tightened his hold on Brian’s hand. “And?” he whispered.

 

A sigh was his reply. “I remember the bed.” Justin turned his head. Brian’s eyes were shut tightly, his lips compressed. “And … the voice. The fucking voice is always in my head.”

 

“W-what does it say?” Justin asked, not sure he really wanted to hear the answer. It was bad enough to think about Brian being raped. But to actually hear-

 

“No.” Brian shook his head and interrupted Justin’s thoughts. “It’s … not important.”

 

“You don’t remember the face?”

 

“No. There’s a still huge hole in my memory. I wish …” he sighed, and was about to say something when they suddenly heard a noise from the downstairs.

 

“Did you hear that?” Justin whispered.

 

“Yeah.” 

 

At the same moment the voice grew louder and light was switched on. The two men looked at each other in alarm. “What the fuck?” Brian murmured. 

 

“Someone’s upstairs,” they heard a voice saying from downstairs.

 

“Oh God, it’s the cops,” Justin felt his heart and breathing speed up. “Brian!”

 

“You go,” Brian shoved Justin towards the window. “Climb down.” 

 

Justin stared at his lover. Was Brian losing it now. No way he was going to abandon him. “No.”

 

“Don’t argue.” Brian’s eyes flashed impatiently. “It’ll bad enough when thy find me here. I don’t want you involved in the whole mess. Go!” he ordered again and more or less forced Justin through the window, he’d opened a moment before. 

 

“Brian,” the blond gave his lover a desperate look. 

 

The older man forced a smile. “It’s going to be okay. Go home. Call Melanie.”

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

“I know,” Brian said and then urged the blond to climb down a tree that was close enough to reach. He’d just closed the window again when the room was bathed in light and a voice behind him said. 

 

“Freeze. Don’t turn. Spread your arms and legs. You’re under arrest.”


	9. Strangers In The Night

Brian leaned back on the cot and sighed. The light hadn’t gone out for a moment since the two uniformed policemen had brought him here. Nobody had questioned him so far, hell, nobody had come to talk to him, but he still knew that this wasn’t good. At least Justin had gotten away. Stubborn little bastard the blond was it was no more than a small miracle. 

 

Finally, after he was wondering who he had to fuck to get a double, non-fat latte, a door opened and a now familiar figure entered. “Oh, great, so not the person I had in mind,” Brian muttered, then sighed and ran only half-steady fingers through his already disheveled hair. 

 

Carl Horvath stopped in front of the cell and looked down at the man sitting on the cot in the corner. When he’d heard about Brian Kinney’s arrest he wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not, but because Brian had been found in Leyton’s house, he had to take care of it. 

 

Brian smirked up at him. “Detective, come to see the fag killer?” 

 

Carl sighed, wondering how much of Kinney’s attitude was just for show. He guessed about 80%. “What were you doing in Leyton’s house?” he asked.

 

The smirk never wavered, “Getting rid of evidence, of course. That’s what you’re thinking anyway.”

 

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” the detective said, getting angry despite all his professional experience. He couldn’t care less about Brian Kinney. The problem was, however, Debbie Novotny cared a great deal about this man, and if he wanted to have a chance with her, he had to tread carefully here. “This is a serious offence, son.”

 

The smirk slipped from Brian’s face. “You’d take a faggot in your family?”

 

“What the hell were you doing in that house? You must realize that you’re a suspect already, and entering a sealed building doesn’t look good on the record.”

 

“You mean apart from the fact that I’m queer?”

 

Carl shook his head and sighed again. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Brian wasn’t stupid, even though the man was too smart-mouthed for his own good. “This has nothing to do with your sexual orientation. You broke into a house. The house of a man, I might add, who was recently murdered. And you’re connected to that crime.”

 

“Excuse me when my trust in the police isn’t that well developed. We … I thought that maybe trying to find out what happened could be a good thing,” Brian replied, getting to his feet. 

 

Carl had heard the slip, but he let it go. He already suspected that Brian’s blond lover had been with him, but had somehow gotten away. From the glimpses he’d gotten of them together, he had the feeling they were pretty close, even though he had to suppress a shudder at the thought of them as a couple. The kid could couldn’t be more than eighteen. He wondered how the boy’s parents were dealing with the fact that their son had a lover so much older. Then he thought about his daughter and her African-American husband and didn’t need to wonder anymore. They were probably not happy about it. 

 

Forcing himself away from those thoughts, he focused on Kinney once again. “The police will do their job.”

 

“Oh yeah, sure,” Brian sneered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The same way they did it when Justin was attacked. Sorry, detective, but justice in this country isn’t something I still count on.” He paused for a moment, rolling his lips inward before continuing. “Are you charging me for trespassing and if not why am I being kept here.”

 

“You are being kept here, because I wanted to talk to you. And because they informed me that your lawyer is on the way. You should be out within the hour.” Carl knew that talking to this man was probably for nothing, but for Debbie’s sake he decided to try. “Listen, Kinney. Keep your nose out of this. You might not like me a lot, but I promise I will investigate this fairly.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Brian snorted, not believing a word of it. Where the fuck was that bitch, Melanie? Horvath had said she was on her way. The sooner he got out the better. This detective was getting far too cozy for his taste. What did the guy think, that he was someone to be rescued?

 

The detective sighed loudly, something he did seem to do a lot lately. “I’m sorry you think that way.”

 

“Look,” Brian gave an impatient shake of his head. He wanted to have this done and over with. “It doesn’t matter what I think or not, Horvath. But aren’t you the one in charge of dumpster boy’s case? Not that I’m even remotely interested in the guy, but I wonder if he were some innocent girl if you’d still treat the case as careless as it seems you are. So, spare me your promises. I’m not some gullible boy who still believes them.”

 

Horvath was about to answer, but that very moment the door behind him opened, and when he turned he saw one of the woman he’d once seen with Debbie, and Kinney’s blond lover enter. “Brian,” the kid asked immediately, concern written all over his face, “are you okay?”

 

For a moment anger flashed through Kinney’s eyes, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“I was worried,” the boy said, wrapping one hand around the bars of Kinney’s cell. “Are you okay?” he wanted to know again.

 

Brian’s anger deflated at the sight of those big blue eyes and he sighed, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then he smirked at Melanie. “Nice of you to find the way over here. I was wondering if I should maybe plan for a longer stay.”

 

Melanie raised a brow at him, but ignored the comment. Instead she turned to Horvath, “I was informed that my client was held for trespassing and entry into a sealed house. Are you going to press charges?”

 

Horvath looked at the woman, dressed in a suit and holding a leather briefcase in her right hand. There was nothing in her anymore of the pretty young woman he’d seen at Debbie’s house that one evening. Now she was all business and the expression in her eyes was warning him not to underestimate her. “No, there will be no charges,” he said finally and wasn’t surprised to hear a sound coming from the cell. When he turned he saw Brian glaring at him. 

 

The man’s eyes were blazing. “Then let’s go. I’m starting to feel like a tiger in a cage.” 

 

Giving Kinney a last look, Horvath left the three people and only moments later a uniformed officer appeared and opened the cell. Brian stepped out and allowed Justin to take him in his arms. He felt the kid tremble and closed his own arms around him. His eyes found Melanie. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

 

She glared at him. “Asshole. What the fuck were you doing in that house?”

 

“None of your business,” he tossed at her, and carefully pulled out of Justin’s embrace. Blue eyes gazed up at him, slightly watery now, and still deeply concerned. “I’m fine,” he whispered, hoping to assure the blond in his arm, but the expression on Justin’s eyes didn’t fade. If anything, it became even more troubled. 

 

“They arrested you,” his lover said. “They took you away in handcuffs. I watched.”

 

Brian closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what he’d done to be on the receiving end of this kind of support. He couldn’t recall anything. All he remembered was treating Justin badly, trying his best to shove the youth away. But Justin hadn’t budged. Only recently, when Ethan Gold had turned up, Justin had started to let go. And instead of finally telling the blond what he really felt, the coward living inside his body had done his best to give Justin another push. Shit! He was so fucked up. How could he really expect Justin to stay? And how could he live without him? 

 

Feeling a headache starting right behind his brows, Brian looked at Melanie. “Can we leave now?”

 

“You’re free to go.” She nodded at the two men and then led the way out of the precinct while Brian did his best to ignore the curious looks and sneers directed his’ and Justin’s way. Maybe he should have let go of Justin’s hand, but the blond was clinging to him, and he couldn’t bring himself to cut that connection. He was drawing strength from their clasped hands, and it seemed that Justin was doing the same. 

 

God, the kid was so strong. His head held high, Justin marched through the precinct, not backing down for a second. And that after he’d almost been killed by a homophobe. Brian couldn’t remember ever having been so brave in his life. Justin was the most amazing person he’d ever met, and he felt himself drawn to the blond in a way he’d never done before. It was almost as if Justin’s strength was humming around him, and parts of that positive energy were infusing Brian’s body. 

 

“Assholes,” Melanie muttered as soon as they were out on the streets. “Jesus, going to your own execution can’t be worse than going through a police station.”

 

“At least we’re going to survive it,” Brian said, his free hand stroking over Justin’s arm. 

 

“Don’t be so sure,” she snapped, then sighed. “You want me to drive you home?” Brian looked around and when he didn’t see a car, he turned to Justin, but Melanie spoke instead. “Justin came with me. Your car is at our house.”

 

“Then let’s go there,” Brian said. “We take the car with us.”

 

Justin nodded, but his knees were still feeling like rubber. Ever since Brian had more or less pushed him out of the window, he’d been overwhelmed by fear. First for his lover who he’d seen being led away by those cops, then by not knowing what was going to happen to Brian, and finally when he’d seen Brian in that cell. The older man had tried to dismiss it, but Justin had seen the desolation in Brian’s eyes the other man hadn’t been able to hide. Ever since his lover had been … assaulted, Brian’s defense mechanisms were for shit, and seemed almost defenseless against the world. Or maybe it was just Justin’s imagination, but who really cared? 

 

Fact was, Brian was suffering, and Justin hated it. And he felt guilt two-fold because of Ethan. He hadn’t had contact with his other … well, lover, but he knew that nothing was fixed for good. He’d merely asked for some time to think, but he hadn’t made it clear that he and Ethan didn’t have a future. Disgusted with his own cowardice, he took a deep breath and climbed into the back seat of Melanie’s car. Brian slipped in beside him and as soon as their door was closed, Melanie drove on. 

 

*****

 

They arrived at Mel’s and Linds’ home after six. All Brian wanted was to take his car and drive home but the chance was lost when they were greeted by Lindsay who was holding a still sleepy Gus in her arms. Seeing them, she gave the three a tired smile. “He woke up about half an hour ago,” she explained the baby in her arms. Looking at Brian and Justin she added, “You two look like shit.” 

 

“Thanks so much,” Brian replied with a little smirk. “Give me my kid.” Taking the child from Lindsay’s arms, the two men and Melanie stepped into the house, where warmth and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee was waiting for them. “Jesus, Linds, you’re a life saver.” Brian took a deep, cleaning breath and exhaled slowly. 

 

Lindsay smiled at him, then left and returned a moment later with a tray holding four steaming cups. “Here you go,” she put the tray on the table in the living room where Brian and Justin were sitting on the sofa. Melanie had gone upstairs to take a shower. She had to be at her office in an hour and was in need of a serious fresh up, or so she had told her friends. “Justin didn’t tell us a lot before, but were you really arrested?”

 

Brian sighed, shifting his son in his arms. Taking one of the cups with his free hand, he took a long sip and savored the taste on his tongue before he answered. “So? It was hardly the first time.”

 

“But for entering the house of a murder victim?” Lindsay stared down at him with an unreadable expression. 

 

“What?” Brian asked, exchanging a quick look with Justin, who shrugged. 

 

“Leyton was gay,” the blond woman said after a moment. She paused, then tilted her head, “Did you fuck him?”

 

Brian rolled his eyes, “Christ, Linds. Believe it or not, there are still men in this burgh I didn’t fuck.”

 

But Lindsay had known him too long and too well to be easily distracted. “Didn’t you tell me you did some sort of commercial advertising where he was involved?”

 

Taking another fortifying sip of the coffee, Brian sighed. “Okay, so I fucked him. It’s been weeks. It has nothing to do with him turning up cold.”

 

“Brian didn’t kill him,” Justin piped up. 

 

“Of course Brian didn’t kill him,” Lindsay said, more than just a little offended. “I never said that. But it’s still … uh … odd, wouldn’t you say, Brian?”

 

“Odd, how?”

 

She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, one of the most prominent gay lawyers in Pittsburgh, someone with political ambitions, I may add, turns up dead. And Brian Kinney is arrested searching through the victim’s home. What am I supposed to think.”

 

“Nothing?” Brian answered tongue-in-cheek.

 

She drew her fine, fair brows together and frowned at him, then at Justin. “What about you? Where you there?”

 

“Wh-what?” the teenager squeaked. 

 

“Oh, come on. You want me to believe Brian went there on his own? Besides, you were at our house, when, half an hour after he was arrested? How could you know about it that soon if you weren’t there?”

 

Brian felt his heart speed up, his gut clench. “You’re too smart for your own good,” he mumbled, giving the mother of his child a sharp look. “Just keep those thoughts to yourself, will you. I don’t want Justin involved in this mess.”

 

“I am already involved,” the blond teenager insisted, and Brian found himself suddenly pinned down by two glaring pairs of blue eyes. “Besides, I’m an adult, you don’t need to protect me all the time.”

 

“Yes, I do,” Brian replied stubbornly. “Justin, this isn’t just some game we’re playing. The police are serious, as much as it surprises me. Apart from that, your mother is going to kill me if she ever finds out you went to that house with me.”

 

“Ha!” Lindsay cried triumphantly. “Now you’re admitting it.”

 

Once again shifting the baby in his arms, Brian sighed. “I thought we already established that. And you will keep your mouth shut, understood?”

 

“Fine.” She sighed, combing her hair out of her face. “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on?”

 

But Brian shook his head, “It’s far too complicated. All I want is to go home now and sleep for a hundred years.” Right then Justin yawned widely, and Brian added, “And I know someone else who needs some hours of sleep. Shit! You’re going to miss a day at school. Your mother is SO going to kill me.”

 

Gus started to wiggle in his father’s arms, and after a moment of watching father and son struggle, Lindsay took him from Brian’s arms. “I think your son needs his breakfast now. Any of you hungry?”

 

“What, you’re gonna feed us oatmeal?” Brian smirked at her, even though he felt anything but. His insides hadn’t stopped clenching since Horvath had turned up at his cell, and Justin’s presence at the precinct had only added to his dread. He wanted Justin as far away from this whole mess as possible. After all, the blond had been the one who’d warned him against going with strangers, and he’d laughed it off, treated Justin as if he was nothing but a dumb kid. 

 

“I thought about scrambled egg and toast. Maybe there are one or two slices of bacon left, too.”

 

“What, you’re gonna waste our perfectly good food on this asshole?” Melanie had returned from upstairs, and was now dressed in another suit, this one blue, with a white blouse underneath. 

 

“Christ, you look like a nun. Is that how you get your clients to trust you?” 

 

Mel gave Brian the evil eye before she turned back to her wife. “I could do with some egg and toast, if that’s okay.”

 

“Sure,” Linds replied instantly and deposited her son on the living room floor. “Watch him,” she told the three people in the room and disappeared into the kitchen. 

 

“You have her trained well,” Brian remarked with a smirk, while Justin went to join Gus on the floor. Soon he and the baby were engaged in some kind of gibberish talk Brian had no way of understanding. 

 

“Fuck you,” Mel shot back, and with a sigh settled in the big chair standing opposite to the sofa. “We both didn’t get a lot of sleep tonight, thanks to you.”

 

Brian shrugged. Was she expecting an apology? Well, she wasn’t going to get one. “Put it on the bill. I’m paying you extra time if you want.”

 

“Damn right, I want,” she said, and stifled a yawn. “What the hell were you thinking, Brian? Breaking into the home of a murder victim. You’re not above the law.”

 

“I know that,” he gritted out. He was tired and worried and so not to up to going several rounds with Melanie this morning. “How was I to know that the police were watching the place.”

 

“Duh! Of course they were. The guy was murdered recently. Never heard of the killer coming back to the place of the murder?”

 

“Maybe it was stupid,” Justin said from his spot on the floor, “but we couldn’t just sit there and wait for the police to do something. All they care for is to find a suspect, and fast.”

 

“And all you did, was to give them one,” Melanie said, rubbing a palm over her face. Then she obviously remembered that she was already wearing makeup and stopped in mid-motion. 

 

“Whatever.” Fed up with the conversation, Brian joined Justin and Gus on the floor, leaving Mel to her thoughts. A moment later she left the room and walked into the kitchen. Brian started slightly when he felt Justin’s hand on his arm. He looked up and into the familiar pair of blue eyes. “What?”

 

“What did Horvath say?” 

 

Brian shrugged, not wanting to think about it, yet realizing that Justin deserved an answer. “Nothing, really. He told me to keep away from this, to leave it to the police to solve a crime. It was a lot of bla, bla, bla. Oh yes, and he obviously cares for Debbie.”

 

“Ewww.” Justin wrinkled his nose. “Can you actually imagine them doing it.”

 

“You wanna make me lose the coffee on the floor?” Brian asked, suppressing a disgusted shudder. Debbie and Horvath was so not an image he wanted to have in his head.

 

They both chuckled, but Justin became serious again. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice subdued.

 

Putting a finger underneath the blond’s chin, Brian looked him in the eye. “Sorry – why?”

 

“That I had the idea to go to Leyton’s house. If it wasn’t for me…” he trailed off, casting his gaze to the ground. 

 

Brian let go of Justin’s chin. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

 

The younger man shrugged, taking a small car Gus was holding out to him. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

 

Not sure what to say, Brian was glad that at the very same moment Lindsay called for them. The two men rose, Justin carrying the baby, and together they joined the two women in the kitchen for breakfast.


	10. Strangers In The Night

Brian threw the keys on the kitchen counter the moment he and Justin stepped through the door, then he walked over and snatched the bottle of Beam from the small table behind his computer desk. It wasn’t even a conscious decision to drink himself into oblivion. It was simply the way he always dealt with problems. Get drunk, get fucked, and forget about it. 

He’d gotten fucked already. No, not the conventional kind. But the way the two cops had arrested him could certainly count as a major fuck. 

Fuck!

He opened the bottle and set it at his lips.

“That’s no solution. Besides, it’s barely noon. Isn’t that a little early, even for you?”

Leave it to the kid to point out what he already knew. Of course it wasn’t a solution. But at least the shit he had to deal with looked a lot less scary through several glasses of whiskey. And wasn’t there some E left from the last time? He sent his young lover a sullen look. “Why don’t you go and fuck your new boy toy?”

He heard Justin sigh before the door rolled shut and little beeping noises told him that the blond was setting the alarm system. “Ethan and I aren’t seeing each other anymore,” Justin said after a moment. “I already told you that.”

“Don’t inconvenience yourself for my sake,” Brian quipped, taking a long satisfying gulp from the bottle. It burned in his throat and all the way down to his stomach, the feeling matching the burning sensations deep in his gut. It wasn’t jealousy he told himself. He didn’t do jealous. What was one blond twink more or less anyway? And what the fuck was he thinking? 

“Don’t do this.”

Justin’s voice had taken on a slightly teary note and Brian hated it. But even more he hated the fact that it was his fault. Justin had been a very horny, but happy seventeen year old before he had tainted him with his poison. It couldn’t still be the aftershock of the bashing, could it?

God, he was good at feeling sorry for himself. His mother was right, he’d always been a selfish bastard. Just like good old dad. He took another sip from the bottle then poured himself a generous glass. Glancing at Justin, he saw the blond shake his head and sighed inwardly. Even teary and clingy the boy was still more a man than he’d ever been. 

“You want something to eat?” Glass in hand he turned around and found his lover behind the kitchen counter, rummaging around for something digestive. “I’m starving.”

He wasn’t. Instead he gulped down half of the glass. It didn’t really help. His system was far too familiar with booze to even react to such meager amounts. “Linds fed us only a few hours ago.”

“I’m still a growing boy.”

That he was. A boy. And he was supposed to be a man. God, what a laugh. 

Brian placed the glass on the counter and turned away, shedding his clothes on his way to the bathroom. Opening the shower stall he stepped inside, the water gurgling through the pipes for several seconds before gushing from the showerhead, instantly hot. He sighed with relief, closing his eyes and tipping his face into the flow as the steaming liquid embraced him. 

He stood like this for a while before retrieving a sponge and soap from the bar at the side of the stall, lathering himself thoroughly, wiping away the stench of jail. Unfortunately the guilt wasn’t as easy to get rid of. He stepped out of the shower and into a thick towel, quickly dashing the moisture from his skin with a few delft swipes of the fabric. Slinging the wet towel around his neck, he reached for a dry one and draped it around his waist before padding over to the sink, reaching a hand to clear the condensation from the mirror.

The face that greeted him bore mute testimony to the demons that wouldn’t stop plaguing him, the dark shadows under his eyes not even bothering him. He should probably lay down and sleep, but knew already that sleep wasn’t an option. As tired as he felt, his mind was still in overdrive, still trying to come to terms with what he’d seen in Leyton’s house, the vivid images that wouldn’t stop tormenting him, and the voice that still taunted him whenever he let it. 

//Don’t look at me like that. You enjoyed every moment of it, you asshole.//

//I promise you, you’ll never forget me.//

Shaking himself a little, Brian rubbed the wet towel over his hair, it’s strands sticking on ends. Usually he would have smoothed them down, today he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. 

Still only wrapped in the towel he left the bathroom and returned to Justin who had placed two plates on the counter. “I made an omelet. There wasn’t a lot in the fridge. We really need to go sho-“

“I told you I’m not hungry,” Brian interrupted him. “Why don’t you go and do something … useful instead of smothering me. How about school?”

This time no tears came when he turned away, instead he heard Justin come closer. “And I told you that pushing me away won’t help. So don’t try it. I’m sticking to you like glue. School can wait.”

“I never thought you were stupid.” Didn’t the kid see that this path wasn’t leading to something beautiful? There was only darkness and pain where he was. “You’re still chasing a dream, Sunshine. I’m not your knight in shining armor. You’re not going to wake up in a fairytale after slipping under the covers with me.” Angry now, he turned around, the anger so much better than the pain. He grabbed Justin’s shoulders, “I’m no prize, Justin. I’ve got nothing to give you. So you’d better run as far away as you can.”

He was not sure what he expected to see, but the sweet smile turning up the corners of Justin’s soft mouth was a shock. 

Gasping for breath, he shook the blond. “Don’t you see? Where I am there is darkness, and destruction.”

“You would never hurt me.”

There was such conviction in Justin’s voice, it made Brian’s blood run cold. Was the kid delusional? “But I already did.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes. I did.” He was suddenly feeling dizzy, blinking hard to keep Justin in focus, swaying ever so slightly. Was it the booze? He’d barely had anything.

“Brian? Brian are you okay?” Justin’s voice seemed to come from far away. He blinked, then shook his head. 

“Brian?”

“I … I’m fine.” Only, he didn’t sound fine. Even to his own ears his voice seemed low and strangely rough. 

He felt Justin’s hand on his arm, tugging slightly. “Why don’t you sit down. You’re white as a sheet.”

His skin was cool, a breeze stroking the bare skin of his torso. “I don’t want to sit.” Yet, he followed his lover, stumbled mostly, and sank into the cushions. 

“Stay here,” he heard the quiet order, then Justin was gone and he was alone, shivering although the loft was warm. At least he thought it was warm. Before. Again he shook his head. Blinked. There was something in his eyes. Something disturbing his vision. Red.

Red?

RED!

“NO!” he shouted, bending forward, a mewling coming from his lips that sounded more like a tortured animal. He heard rushed steps, then Justin was kneeling at his side.

“Brian?” The kid’s voice was scared. Fuck. 

“I … I’m okay,” he tried to reassure him again. It was a laugh. He didn’t feel okay. Nothing was okay. 

“Here.” Something was draped around his shoulders. Soft. Warm. Probably a sweater. 

“Brian?”

God, it was so red. He blinked again, but there was nothing but red.

“Brian!”

Urgency colored Justin’s voice, and the hands that gripped his arms shook ever so lightly. “Brian, please. You’re scaring me.”

He tried to blink again. Fuck. What was happening? And then words tumbled from his mouth, words he had no control over. “I can still see it. The blood. And you were …,” his voice dropped to a low whisper, “were so still. And cold. And you were in my arms … and … a-and I talked to you and you didn’t answer.”

*****

Carl cleared his throat a little louder than usual to get Debbie’s attention. She was standing behind the counter, chatting with someone who looked like a woman but might be a man, discussing the pros and cons of oral sex. Jesus God! 

She turned when she heard him, her red wig bright as always, her eyes twinkling in a way that made him feel things he’d thought forgotten at his age. But the light faded from her eyes when she realized it was him trying to get her attention. “Ah. Look, who’s here. The ever straight Detective Horvath.” Clucking her tongue, she gave the top of the counter a good wipe with a not so clean towel, then placed her hands at her hips and looked at him expectantly. 

“Mrs. Novotny … ah … Debbie. Do you have a moment so we could talk?”

Her brows climbed, “Talk? About what? You want information about any of the people I care about so you can arrest them?”

He sighed. As much as he loved the fire in her, it also made things a little to difficult for his liking. “Debbie. Please. Can’t we just have a civilized conversation?”

“Oh, so you’re not gonna try to hit on me for information about friends over dinner this time?”

Much more difficult. 

“I admit, it’s about the case I’m working on, but … I swear, I had nothing to do with Brian’s arrest last night and-“

“Arrest?” Now alarm shone in her eyes. “Are you telling me he’s been arrested? For what? He didn’t do anything.” She threw the towel away, turning towards the open window that lead to the kitchen. “I need an hour off. Get someone to replace me.” Not waiting for an answer she stormed into the back room. Not waiting for an invitation, Carl followed.

“What? You trying for a career as a stalker now?”

This time he sighed loudly. “Debbie. Please, would you stop for a second and listen to me.”

“Listen to what?” she asked, slipping into another pair of shoes. “More lies?”

“I’m not lying, dammit.” He was furious now, and not caring what she might think of him, he grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. “Brian was arrested for entering a sealed building last night. He spent one night in jail and was released this morning. He is fine. So would you stop now and listen to me?”

She blinked at him. Then she did it for a second time. And then she nodded. “So, talk.”

He let go of her and took a deep breath, “I need to ask you something. How close are your son and Brian Kinney?”

“What?” She was honestly stunned. “Michael? What’s Michael got to do with this?”

There were times when he hated his job. And this was one of them. Yet, he was an officer of the law and that meant something to him. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he took another deep breath. “I told you about the evidence that links Kinney to the murder victim. I’m not supposed to tell you that, and to be honest, nobody beside me even cares about this, but we got an anonymous letter which contained Kinney’s DNA testing which was done a few years ago at a hospital.”

“You – what?”

He nodded, knowing that his superiors wouldn’t be pleased with him right now. He was confiding in a civilian, worse, he was confiding in one who was connected to a suspect. But ever since Brian’s DNA information had turned up at the precinct he’d had this crawling sensation in his gut that something just wasn’t right about this case. 

“But who would do such a thing? I mean, it’s almost as if someone is trying to make Brian look like the murderer.”

“That’s what’s been bugging me ever since,” he admitted, wondering if there was a chance of her ever going out to dinner with him again. Damn, the woman was constantly getting him off track. “And that brings me back to Michael. You mentioned he and Kinney have been friends for a while.”

“More than fifteen years. Why?”

“So he knows Kinney?”

“Sure. Carl, what the fuck is this all about?”

“Then I need to talk to him. Kinney isn’t very forthcoming with information. Plus, he doesn’t trust me shit.” Debbie snorted, and he sighed again, “I understand that he’s probably got reason not to trust cops, but I hope you can see that this isn’t some dirty game I’m playing. Maybe it’ll help if I tell you that I think Kinney’s innocent.”

That got her attention. Something seemed to shift in her eyes, but her voice was still brisk when she replied, “It’s about fucking time. Brian might be an asshole, but he wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. In my job, I’ve had to learn that almost everyone – if provoked enough – is able to commit a murder. But that’s not important right now. Still, I think he’s innocent this time. So I need to talk to someone who knows him well enough to help me with a list of people who might hate him enough to link him to a homicide.”

For a moment she said nothing, then she took her coat from the hanger. “Alright. We’re going to see Michael. He’s at his store at this time of the day. But I expect you to tell me everything about that arrest you mentioned. I hope Brian is alright?”

He chuckled as he followed her out of the diner. Would he ever figure out that woman? Probably not, but maybe it was the reason he felt so drawn to her.

*****

Oh God! What was happening to him? He hadn’t meant to say that. Had never wanted Justin to hear it. It was his nightmare, not Justin’s. The kid probably had enough of his own. 

“Wh-what?”

And the words kept on tumbling. He tried to stop them, but nothing happened. It was as if a floodgate had opened and his innermost thoughts were spilling out with unstoppable force. “Y-you were so small in that bed. And so … helpless. I saw the nightmares. Saw you struggle.” He felt himself shake, but there was nothing he could do. “I knew your mother didn’t want me there, so I came at night. They never knew.” He felt himself laugh, a hysterical sound, dying instantly and turning to a sob.

A sob?

He never sobbed! He’d learned long ago that showing weakness brought only more pain, more humiliation.

//You are not my son. You’re a fucking sissy. That’s what you are.//

And the laughter. The taunting.

//You can’t even take it like a man. Here take another one. Then you have reason to cry.//

“Brian!”

He blinked again. The red was fading. But his thoughts were still tumbling madly. “Jus – Justin,” he gasped, trying to force air into lungs that seemed painfully contracted.

“I’m here. I’m here.” A pause, then, “What do you mean, you came at night? Do you mean when I was in the hospital?”

“You were so brave. I was so proud of you.” Was that his voice? So soft? “And so fucking beautiful.”

A gasp of surprise in the silence. “B-brian?” Justin’s voice sounded very young all of a sudden. What the fuck had he said?

Beautiful.

Fuck!

“Justin, I…”

“You thought I was beautiful?” The softness was gone, replaced by – anger? “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

Slowly he raised his head, blinked again. There was Justin, pale, blond, all blue eyes. And they were brimming with tears. He saw shock, love, anger. “I … couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because … I … I let it happen.” And it was the truth. For the first time he was speaking the untarnished truth. He had let it happen. Because he had come to the Prom. Because he had been there. Because of him Chris Hobbs had taken a baseball bat to Justin’s head. 

“But – it wasn’t your fault.”

And wasn’t that a laugh? Just when he was able to face his sins, Justin was trying to wipe them away. 

“It wasn’t,” Justin insisted again. “I told you before. You tried to save me, Brian. Because of you I’m still alive.”

It was too much. Much more than he could bear. With a sudden movement he shoved Justin away and stood abruptly, the towel around his waist slipping to the floor. Unaware of his own nudity, Brian began to pace, too agitated to sit still. “You’re crazy. I’m not some kind of live-saver, Justin. I’m … not good for you.”

“Are you sure you’re not my mother in disguise?”

Anger boiling hotly, Brian spun around to face his young lover. “This is no joking matter! Stop trying to turn this into some kind of comedy.”

“I’m not,” the blond defended himself. “But Brian, you’re not God. Things happen on this earth you have no control over.”

“No!” He shook his head in denial, and spun away. No. No. Nonononononononononononono, a voice chanted in his head. 

He found himself back in the bedroom, his eyes darting around wildly, yet seeing nothing. He heard Justin coming in behind him and tensed. “No,” he said again, not sure who needed convincing. 

“That’s life,” Justin’s voice was quiet. “Chris Hobbs hit me with the baseball bat. It’s fate. Kismet. I wish it hadn’t happened. But maybe … maybe it was necessary.”

It felt as if his head was going to explode. His gut clenched. “Are you insane?” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Necessary?” He turned to his lover. Slowly, because otherwise he might get right into Justin’s face. “You were in that hospital. You were fighting for you life … and you call that necessary?”

“It brought me here, didn’t it?” 

“That baseball bat did something to your head, because you’re babbling nonsense.” Feeling agitated again, Brian started to pace. Which was quite an achievement in the not so vast space of his bedroom. 

“But it’s true. We’ve never been so close as now. You’ve never been so open. Before … before you were … I mean … you were slipping away. We were drifting apart. Ethan … was just another symptom.”

“He can give you things I never can.”

“That’s bullshit.”

That stopped him cold. Slowly he turned back to Justin. “What?”

“You heard me.” The blond’s face was set, his eyes and mouth firm. “Yes, maybe Ethan can give me songs and flowers, but one thing will always be missing.”

He tilted his head and lifted a brow.

“Love.”

And then Brian laughed. Not happy, belly laughter. No, his was harsh and disbelieving. And he snorted. “You’re delusional. I don’t even know what love is.”

“But I do. And I love you.” Brian couldn’t tear his gaze away from the blueness of Justin’s eyes. “I don’t love Ethan. And he can’t make me love him, even if he loves me. Which, by the way, isn’t anywhere on the horizon.”

“Justin-“

“No.” The blond held up a hand. And took a step closer to his older lover. “I love you. And I know this man … whoever he was … hurt you. And your father did. And Chris Hobbs. Yes, he hit me, but you … suffered … suffer as well. But maybe we can still win.”

“Win?” It sounded hollow in his head. “Nobody ever wins.”

“But we could.” Justin’s eyes seemed to darken, and he came closer still. “We could. You just have to believe.”

Brian shook his head. Believe? He had stopped believing a long time ago. Believing was for fools, and belief was what his mother clung to. Bigotry and lies. And now Justin wanted him to believe? 

“Brian. Look at me!”

The blond’s voice was urgent, the blueness of his eyes almost hypnotic. “Justin.” And his voice was hoarse, and didn’t sound like his own. Unfamiliar. Small. Scared.

“I love you, Brian.”

Oh God.

“I love you. And I know you love me too. I know it.”

Again his mouth acted before his mind could follow, and the words were out before he could stop them. “I do. God help me, I do.” As if they had a life of their own, his arms wrapped themselves around Justin, and there they stood. One fully clothed, the other one naked, one tall and dark, the other smaller and blond, one tainted and the other one … pure. So full of pure light. And they held on to each other, and Brian felt rays of hope, something he hadn’t himself allowed to feel for what seemed like an eternity.


	11. Strangers In The Night

Justin awoke shortly before midnight. After the events of the past day, he and Brian had tumbled into bed, and after sucking Brian off, they’d both fallen into an exhausted sleep. It was the first time since Brian had been … raped – and God, it was still so hard to say that – that the older man had allowed the blond to touch him, and Justin had marveled in it. 

But now he was suddenly awake. Turning his head, he saw Brian’s face on the pillow next to him, his features softly illuminated by the blue lights, and finally relaxed in a way they hadn’t been since this nightmare had started. For a moment Justin considered kissing his lover, but decided against it. Brian hadn’t slept for days, not restfully anyway, and needed this more than anything. Feeling restless himself, he slowly rose and left the bed, padding barefoot into the kitchen. 

Opening the fridge he found half a chocolate bar, and after pouring a glass of milk he settled with them on the sofa, enjoying the rich taste of the candy, then swallowing it down with his drink of choice. Brian would probably laugh if he saw him like this, and Justin chuckled at the thought, licking the crumbs of chocolate from his lips. He paused for a moment, wondering if he could still taste Brian’s come underneath. 

Fuck, his mother would roll her eyes if she knew he was thinking something like that, he thought with a grin. 

Emptying his glass, he was about to get up to return it to the sink when the phone rang. Quickly snatching it from the receiver, he hissed in a whisper, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Justin?”

The blond couldn’t believe his ears. “Michael! Have you any idea what time it is?” he hissed on a whisper.

“I know it’s late, but I tried the whole day to call Brian. Where the fuck is he?”

Justin rolled his eyes, wondering how much of a selfish asshole you had to be to call your friend in the middle of the night, just to talk to him. Especially after you had seen that said friend hadn’t been alright only a few days ago. 

“Brian is asleep. Like most people are at *midnight*.”

“What, you’re his keeper now?” Michael asked angrily. In the background Justin could hear Ben’s voice calling for his boyfriend – probably wondering what he was doing on the phone. 

“I’m not his keeper. But Brian wasn’t feeling well and-“

“Of course he wasn’t feeling well. I wouldn’t either after spending a whole night in jail. Why the fuck didn’t anybody tell me that my best friend was arrested? Didn’t you think I had a right to know.”

“Honestly?” Justin snapped. “It didn’t enter my mind to call you. And Brian was kind of distracted.” Justin was quickly getting fed up with Michael’s attitude. He was almost as tired as Brian and his mind was still in a turmoil after what had occurred between himself and Brian the day before. 

“That’s just so typical of you. Can you think of anyone but yourself for a moment. Not enough that you were cheating on him with this Ethan-guy. No, now you’re also keeping me away from him.”

“I’m not keeping you away from him,” Justin gritted out between clenched teeth. “He’s sleeping. In his bed. And that’s where I’m going to go in moment, too.”

“Is he alright?”

Justin sighed when he heard the change in Michael’s voice. “He’s … okay, I guess. As it can be expected after spending the night in a cell. “How did you hear about it?”

“Mom and this cop she’s obviously so fond of turned up at the shop today. Wanted to know something about Brian’s DNA.”

“Brian’s DNA?” Justin perked up.

“Seems someone faxed the results of Brian’s DNA testing to the police.”

“What kind of asshole does such a thing?”

He heard Michael sigh on the other hand. “Justin, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but Brian hasn’t exactly a lot of friends in Pittsburgh.”

“If you’re talking about all the guys he fucked … but I can’t see any of them bothering enough to do this.” It just didn’t add up. Even if Brian had often treated his tricks like shit, wasn’t that a whole lot of trouble to go through for revenge? On the other hand … “You think maybe one of his former tricks killed the guy?” He was suddenly wide awake, a whole new horizon of possibilities spreading out before him. Justin was sure Brian was innocent, even if his lover still suffered from partial memory loss where the night of the murder was concerned. 

“Who knows. I just thought you should know. Although, Horvath will probably pay you a visit tomorrow anyway.”

Just what they needed right now. Brian was in no condition to deal with the police. After his admission of love, the older man had been drained and Justin had to practically drag him to the bed. “Fuck.”

“If it helps any, I think Horvath thinks Brian’s innocent.”

“He does?” This was news to Justin, and for once not entirely unpleasant ones. “How do you guess?”

“Mom was awfully friendly with him.” The annoyance was clear in Michael’s voice, and Justin had to suppress a grin. Mama’s little boy wasn’t dealing well with a new man in Debbie’s life. “And he said something … well, he wasn’t exactly frank, but … I got the feeling he believes Brian has nothing to do with the murder.”

“How is Ben?” the blond asked after moment, trying to change the subject. In a way Justin couldn’t quite understand, he felt uncomfortable discussing the case with Michael. Maybe because he and Michael never had managed to be close, the way he was with Emmett. But then, Emmett hadn’t spent sixteen years of his life hoping for Brian to fuck him. 

“We … haven’t really talked,” Michael replied haltingly. “But he seems determined to go. Anyway, tell Brian to call me as soon as he wakes up, okay?”

Justin would do no such thing, but he also knew that if he wanted to get rid of Michael, he had to tell the other man what he wanted to hear. “I will.”

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

Without another word Michael disconnected and Justin continued to sit on the sofa for a few minutes, trying to decide what to think of the information he’d gotten tonight. Too tired to think clearly, he rose and walked back up the stairs and slid under the sheets, joining his lover in his dreams.

*****

It was seven o’clock in the morning, and Carl Horvath was wondering if maybe meeting a certain red wigged woman was slowly driving him insane. Instead of enjoying the home brewed java and a buttery croissant at the coffee shop next to his apartment as he usually did at that time of the morning, he was sitting in his office, sipping the black fluid they called coffee around here and nibbling at a two day old donut. He was a sorry case, no doubt about that. 

But ever since talking to Debbie’s son last night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, he couldn’t quite grasp yet, but it was persistent enough to rob him of his sleep and force him to go to his office a lot earlier than usual. 

The file in front of him was the same as it had been yesterday, but he was looking at it with different eyes now. He had known about Brian Kinney before, but talking to Michael Novotny had certainly widened his horizon. 

He now knew how Brian and the kid who seemed to live with him had met. Michael had also told Carl about the bashing Justin had received at his prom, and the way he’d come to live with Brian afterward. 

More importantly, though, was what Michael had not told him. Having been on the force as long as Carl was, not a lot went past him. And it was clear as day that Debbie’s son adored Kinney, no adored wasn’t quite the right word. Worshipped might be better. He wasn’t sure if Debbie was aware of the true depth of that worship, But then, Debbie was a smart woman, not a lot went past her either. Maybe she had simply convinced herself that, because Michael had a boyfriend, things were finally improving. 

The boyfriend had been at the comic book store last night. A big guy, smart, a professor, who seemed smitten with the Novotny-boy, but Carl had sensed a tension between the two men and on his way home Debbie had admitted that Bruckner, the boyfriend, was HIV-positive and thinking about spending a year in Asia. 

Carl sighed, then grimaced at the taste of already cold coffee, and looked at the pictures he’d spread out on his desk. Somewhere there lay the answers to some of the questions he needed answered. He wasn’t sure if those answers would help to solve the murder case, but maybe they would shed a new light on it and that was something at least. Besides, he was getting a lot of pressure from his superiors because the victim had been a renown gay lawyer. Unlike the boy in the dumpster whose case had been closed after just a few days. It didn’t sit right with Carl, but there was nothing short of creating a huge scandal and risking his job – and his pension - he could do.

He looked at Brian’s handsome face. Then at Justin’s. They fit somehow, even though Carl still had heartburn imagining two guys actually doing it. He wasn’t a prude, and he’d worked in Vice long enough to know what happened, it was just … bothering him. Maybe because he’d been brought up a good Catholic boy who had learned that there were men and women and they were made for each other. Or maybe it was being a cop. Or maybe it was just being a straight man. He knew, however, that if he wanted a chance with Debbie he had to come to terms with the homophobic corners of his mind. 

He sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb of forefinger as he felt a headache starting. Damn. Not even eight. He opened a drawer, reached for an aspirin and dumped it in his coffee, then grimaced. His ulcer would probably have a fit. 

He shook his head and chuckled. 

God, he was a sorry case.

*****

Brian woke completely disoriented, the way he sometimes did after a night of too much booze, drugs and … nope, there wasn’t really too much sex. He groaned silently to himself, feeling the edges of a splitting migraine linger in background. 

What the fuck had happened? 

Slowly opening his eyes to the light filtering through the blinds of his bedroom, he blinked. Okay, he was at home, in his bed, which meant that nothing really earth-shattering could have happened, or could it? 

A warm leg connected with his and suddenly the memory came rushing back. God, it couldn’t be true. Please, please don’t let it be true. But it was, because he remembered it clearly. 

Fuck! 

“Brian?”

Damn fucking damn! 

“How are you?”

He quickly closed his eyes again and tried to breathe through the panic that suddenly seized him. His heart started to hammer and his palms had grown moist.

“Brian? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he snapped, sighing when he heard his own voice. Fuck! He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to turn his head and see the love and adoration in Justin’s blue ones. He couldn’t deal with it. He had done nothing to earn it, and he-

“Brian.” Justin’s hand on his arm was like the touch of a feather. “It’s okay.” And his voice was gentle and soothing. “You don’t need to say anything. It’s okay, I understand.”

Anger surged quick and hot. “But I don’t, okay!” Brian was out of the bed, ignoring his throbbing head, glaring at the blond, blue-eyed boy amidst his rumpled sheets. God, he looked so fucking hot, Brian instantly felt his cock stir. Even more irritated by his body’s involuntary reaction, Brian frowned. “It’s not okay. You better forget all the bullshit I said yesterday. It’s-“

“No.” One word. Spoken quietly but firmly. Blue eyes looked at him open and unguarded. 

And he was lost. 

“Justin.” He heard the agony in his own voice, felt his body begin to tremble. 

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“You should,” Brian whispered. “If you know what’s good for you, you should run as fast as you can.”

“But I won’t. And I love you,” Justin said urgently, and Brian could hear him leave the bed and come closer. “Just because your parents treated you like shit doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated that way all the time.”

Brian heard himself laugh harshly, “Sunshine, I deserve worse than that.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Justin said hotly, touching Brian’s chilly skin with warm hands. “Nobody deserves to be abused.”

“I wasn’t abused.” The denial came automatically. Brian had worked hard and long to make himself believe that what his parents had done to him meant nothing. That he’d grown up and beyond that. 

“I read about people who grew up like you,” Justin said, and Brian opened his eyes, to look at the kid. No, not a kid. Justin was strong and brave, he was much more a man than Brian had ever been. “Being treated the way you were, people tend to expect abuse again. Their self-worth is really flawed, you know.”

On any other day, Brian would have rolled his eyes and laughed. But this morning he didn’t feel like laughing. After all the emotional outpour last night, he felt open and vulnerable and Justin’s words hit too close to home. Not sure what to say, he tried to turn his head, tried to get away form the blond, but Justin wouldn’t let him. Instead he cupped Brian’s cheek firmly in his hand and forced the older man to meet his eyes. 

“They try to abuse themselves. You’re showing classic symptoms, Brian. Drugs, your drinking, the way you use sex to-“

“Save it,” Brian finally managed, finding enough strength to glare at Justin. “What’s that? Psychology 101?”

“Brian, stop it!” Blue eyes flashed angrily. “Why do you always try to push me away? Don’t you believe I love you?”

Feeling dead tired all of a sudden, Brian rubbed his eyes with a free hand. “I believe you,” he said. “But you’re eighteen years old, Justin. A kid. What-“

“Don’t give me the shit my mother did,” the blond snapped, letting go of his lover and turning away. Starting to pace, he went on, “Why does everyone always try to convince me that I don’t know what real love is?” He stopped and glared at Brian, “I’m NOT a kid. Fuck! I might be eighteen, but I almost died. I know that life isn’t a fairytale.”

Brian felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Why the fuck was Justin bringing up his prom again? Especially after what had happened yesterday? “I know that,” he replied harshly. “I know you almost died.” His voice grew louder but he didn’t care. “I know you almost fucking died, I was there, remember. I held you in my arms!”

Justin’s head whipped around at Brian’s anguished voice, “Brian-“

“No!” He didn’t want to be comforted, so he turned away. “Why can’t you let it go, Justin? Why is this so important for you?”

“Because it is. Because you are.” The blond came closer again, reached out and touched the older man. Brian flinched, but Justin closed his fingers around his wrist. “Look at me! You deserve to be loved. And I’m not going to go away.”

Brian simply stared at him, wanting to believe but not able to let go of what was engraved in his soul. Accepting love was foreign, terrifying in a way Brian didn’t know how to deal with. He felt his breathing quicken and pressed his lips together. 

“Debbie loves you, Lindsay does, Gus, even Michael – in his own twisted way.”

“Leave Michael out of this,” Brian snapped. Another automatic response. He’d been defending Michael since the day they’d met. 

Justin sighed, “Fine. We leave him out. But one day you will have to deal with it. With him. You allow him to abuse you too.”

“That’s-“

“Don’t say that’s bullshit,” the blond warned. “I didn’t see it at first, and I didn’t understand it either, but … See, Daphne is my friend. She never treats me the way Michael treats you. By the way he called last night.” 

Brian’s eyes widened. 

“At midnight,” Justin went on. “He heard about you being arrested and all he could think about was talking to you. He didn’t spend a moment’s consideration about how you felt. This was about *him* wanting to talk to you.”

Anger – old and familiar – surged, “You know nothing about Michael and me.”

“Only that you share the most dysfunctional friendship I’ve ever seen,” Justin shot back, his eyes flashing. 

Not sure what to say, Brian frowned. Undeniably there was truth in what Justin had said. Even though Michael had helped him to stay sane more times that he could count, he also knew that there were a lot of unsolved issues between Michael and him. 

Justin sighed and let go of his arm. “Look, Brian. Let’s just forget about Michael. And I’m not expecting you to repeat what you told me yesterday.” Brian saw the meaningful look in the blond’s eyes. “But I’m glad you said it.”

For a moment Brian felt a wave of panic, but it subsided quickly. Maybe loving Justin wasn’t as scary as he’d thought. Maybe the kid wouldn’t make a big deal out of it they way Brian had feared. Slowly, forcing the words out through a throat that hurt, he replied, “Me too.”

A smile worthy of Justin’s nickname spread over the blond’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the older man said grudgingly. 

And obviously Justin was a lot smarter that Brian had given him credit for, because he suddenly turned away and walked toward the kitchen, “You wanna eat something? I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Brian replied, glad that he was left off the hood – at least for now.

“Of course, I’m still a growing boy.”

Still a little shaky, but with a smile on his face, Brian followed his lover down the stairs. 

*****

“Horvath?”

“Detective Horvath?”

The voice sounded young, maybe early twenties. “Yes. Who is speaking.”

“That’s not important. I was told you were searching for information regarding a certain DNA-test.”

Carl straightened in his chair, his spine cracking audibly. He stifled a groan and took a deep breath instead, “Tell me who you are.”

“Sorry, dude. No can do.”

“Where did you hear about the test?” Carl wanted to know, signaling a colleague to try tracing the call. 

“I saw you at the hospital.”

“You work there?” he asked, hoping against hope that the caller would let slip some information.

“Now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Now, listen. I’m not sure why you want to know about it, but Kinney and I …,” he chuckled, “not that he would remember me. Anyway … he’s not a bad guy.”

Carl sighed, “About that DNA-test…”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe you should ask his friends.” The caller paused, then added, “Who needs enemies if he has friends like those.”

“It’s a little vague. Can’t you get a bit more specific.”

“You want me to do your work, or what?”

Carl frowned and opened the file on his desk again. Reaching for the pictures, he flipped through them. Kinney’s friends were an odd bunch. From someone as colorful as Emmett Honeycutt to Lindsay Peterson. 

“Alright,” the caller said after a moment. “But only because I’m a nice guy. Schmidt. Ted Schmidt. Take a closer look at him. He might look like an accountant, but there’s a more to the guy than he lets on.”


End file.
